Category: English

My husband died unexpectedly, and I discovered a transfer record of 19 million dollars to his mistress on his backup phone. Seven years of marriage, and I couldn’t even bring myself to buy clothes over a hundred dollars. I never imagined he’d be so generous with his mistress! At the funeral, his mistress showed up with her son, demanding to inherit all of my husband’s estate. My mother-in-law Nancy mocked me for being unable to have children and told me to get lost. The relatives watched coldly from the sidelines. Until seven days after my husband’s death, when the lawyer I hired arrived. Millions in debt plus a mistress’s bastard child—Nancy, you better catch this blessing real tight! The day Liam Walker was buried, Seaside City was hit with a rare torrential downpour. But I couldn’t feel the cold, because my heart had already died three days ago. I knelt on the prayer cushion in the center of the funeral hall, head bowed, mechanically tossing paper money into the brazier in front of me. The flames licked at the yellow paper, instantly turning it to ash. Just like my seven years of youth—fed to the dogs without even hearing a sound. “You cursed woman! How dare you kneel here!” A shrill curse tore through the funeral. A hand struck the back of my head with such force that I lurched forward, nearly falling to the ground. I scrambled to brace myself against the floor. Before I could turn around, Nancy’s twisted face was already in mine. “If it wasn’t for you, you husband-killing jinx, I’d be holding Hudson by now! Liam was in his prime earning years—how did he end up with a cursed wife like you! I can’t go on! My son…” Nancy plopped down on the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing. Her cries rose and fell in theatrical waves—part venting, part performance for the surrounding relatives. The room was packed with the Walker family relatives. “That Evelyn Hart is cursed, that’s for sure. Seven years of marriage, can’t have children, and got her husband killed.” “Exactly. I heard the day Liam had that car accident, he was supposed to close a multi-million dollar deal.” “Such misfortune. What sins did the Walker family commit?” I listened to these whispers, clenching my fists. In the past, I would have explained, felt wronged, begged Nancy for forgiveness. But today, I didn’t say a word. I just raised my head woodenly and looked at the black and white photo hanging above the funeral hall. In the photo, Liam wore that smile I knew so well—seemingly honest but actually calculating. Liam, can you hear this? Your mother is cursing me, your relatives are mocking me. Underground, you must be laughing happily, right? After all, you’ve wanted to get rid of this old woman for a long time, haven’t you? My hand unconsciously reached for my pocket, where a phone with a cracked screen was tucked away. That was Liam’s belongings. Liam had rear-ended a semi-truck on the highway and died instantly. When the traffic police notified me to identify the body and collect his belongings, I was completely numb. Among those blood-stained items, I took back this phone of his. This wasn’t the one he usually brought home, but his so-called work phone. If I ever glanced at this phone before, he’d fly into a rage, shouting: “Evelyn, don’t you know the rules? This has confidential business information! If tens of millions in client data gets leaked, can you afford to pay for it?” Back then I was foolish enough to believe him. I thought he was a man doing big things, and as a supportive wife, I couldn’t cause trouble for him. I brought that blood-stained phone home and plugged it into the charger. The moment the screen lit up, I saw the wallpaper— A photo of him on a yacht with his arm around a woman’s waist, showing only their backs. Though I couldn’t see her face, the woman had a killer figure, wearing a bikini, her skin glowing white. My hands started trembling. The password lock blocked me.

I tried my birthday. Wrong. Our wedding anniversary. Wrong. Nancy’s birthday. Wrong. I even tried his favorite athlete’s jersey number. Still wrong. One last chance—the phone warned that another wrong entry would lock it. On a whim, I remembered seven years ago when we first started dating, after getting drunk once, he’d called out a name: “Susan.” That was his first love, the campus beauty in college. I heard she later married a rich guy and moved abroad. With trembling fingers, I entered that date I had secretly written in my diary and considered taboo—that woman’s birthday. “Click.” The screen unlocked. In that instant, my heart went half cold, but it hadn’t completely died. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Maybe he just couldn’t forget his old flame? But the moment I opened his messages, all my illusions were shattered. I remembered how Liam used to say I was vulgar, that I didn’t understand romance. Turns out, he saved all his romance for someone else. I opened the conversation. It was filled with explicit messages, and even many nude photos. The most recent message was from half an hour before the accident. Liam: “Baby, the final step is done. The money’s already transferred to you. We can take this money and live happily ever after. That old hag is still at home making me dinner, haha.” The other person replied: “You’re amazing! Once you get to the airport we’ll meet up. Did you buy the tickets?” Liam: “Bought them, leaving tonight. I’ve already cooked the company books, they won’t find any loopholes. By the time Evelyn figures it out, we’ll already be sunbathing in Vancouver.” My breathing became rapid, my chest felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer. That’s right—that afternoon I was in the kitchen making his favorite borscht. To save two dollars, I’d even gone to three different markets to buy beef. Turns out in his eyes, I was just an idiot. My fingers scrolled up stiffly until I saw that transfer record. Transfer to: Susan Amount: Nineteen million dollars. I suddenly wanted to laugh. I laughed until tears came out. Liam ran a building materials business. Everyone said business had been tough these past two years. Every month when I asked him for five thousand dollars for living expenses, he’d haggle with me endlessly, saying the company’s cash flow was tight, telling me to be frugal. To save money, I hadn’t bought new clothes in two years. My skincare products were discounted Pond’s from the supermarket. Last month my mom needed heart bypass surgery, urgently needing fifty thousand dollars for the operation. I begged him, almost got on my knees. What did he say then? He frowned, looking impatient as he pushed me away: “Evelyn, it’s not that I won’t help, there’s really no money. The company’s accounts are all tied up, can’t touch it. Figure it out yourself. Why don’t you sell that gold bracelet?” That gold bracelet was a keepsake my grandmother left me. To save my mom, I sold it. And he turned around and gave this woman named Susan nineteen million dollars! Nineteen million! That was our marital property! That was the fortune I helped him build sleeping in basements, eating instant noodles, even drinking until I had stomach bleeding just to help him with business entertainment! He not only betrayed our marriage, he was going to run off with all the money and throw me away like garbage! That night, I didn’t cry out loud. I sat on the cold floor and backed up all the chat records, transfer receipts, and those disgusting photos from the phone to my cloud storage. I looked at myself in the mirror—that sallow-faced woman with fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Evelyn, you shouldn’t cry. If you cry now, you’ve truly lost. Since Liam wanted to scheme against me even in death, I’ll make sure he can’t rest in peace even as a ghost! “Hey! What are you spacing out for!” My husband’s brother, Marcus Walker, kicked me roughly, jolting me out of my memories. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, looking completely slovenly—the kind of hoodlum Nancy had spoiled since childhood. “Evelyn, now that Liam’s gone, shouldn’t you settle the funeral expenses? Also, the crematorium people are pressing for the cremation fee.”

Marcus blew out a smoke ring, his eyes full of calculation. I kept my head down, my voice hoarse: “I don’t have any money on me. Liam left so suddenly, all the cards were on him.” “Bullshit!” Nancy stopped her wailing and sprang up from the floor with the agility of someone far younger than sixty. “You’ve been managing the household all these years, how could you not have savings? Let me tell you, Evelyn, Liam’s death benefits, insurance compensation—that’s all for my retirement! And this house, Liam bought it, what does it have to do with you?” I looked at this mother and son, sneering inwardly. “Nancy,” I slowly raised my head, my eyes eerily calm, “this house was bought after marriage, and my name is on the deed. According to the law, I’m the first heir.” “Bah!” Nancy spat a glob of phlegm near my feet. “What law? In the Walker family, I AM the law! The surrounding relatives started chiming in: “That’s right, Evelyn, you have to have a conscience. Liam worked himself to death for this family.” “If you have any shame left, give the house to Marcus. Marcus isn’t married yet, he needs a house.” “I bet she just wants to take the money and find another man! Women like this are heartless!” Listen to these high and mighty justifications. In the past, for the sake of so-called family harmony, for Liam’s reputation, I might have swallowed my anger. I might have even taken out money to prove my innocence. But now, looking at these greedy faces, I only found it laughable. They want money? Want the house? Fine. If they knew that Liam left behind not just a house, but a huge surprise, I wonder if they’d still be so eager. I took a deep breath, about to speak, when suddenly there was a commotion at the entrance. The previously noisy funeral suddenly fell silent, with only the sound of rain still pattering outside. “Who’s that? Driving such a nice car?” “That car must cost several hundred thousand, right?” I followed everyone’s gaze. Through the rain, a black Maybach slowly pulled up to the funeral home entrance. The car door opened, and a black umbrella unfurled. First to emerge was a foot in red-soled high heels, a slender ankle visible beneath a black hem. Then, a woman stepped out. She wore a perfectly tailored haute couture black mourning dress, oversized sunglasses, skin blindingly white, lips like scarlet flames. She wasn’t carrying any offerings, but held the hand of a young boy. The boy was about four or five years old, wearing a little black suit, chubby-cheeked, holding a Transformer toy. The woman closed her umbrella, removed her sunglasses, revealing a refined but slightly haggard face. She surveyed the funeral, her gaze finally landing on me. In that moment, I recognized her. Susan. The woman who took the nineteen million dollars. My heart raced, not with fear, but with unprecedented excitement. The show was finally beginning. Nancy froze. Marcus’s eyes went wide. Susan walked to the portrait, ignoring everyone else, and elegantly bowed three times. Then, she gently nudged the little boy beside her. “Go present flowers to Daddy.”

Nancy looked like she’d been struck by lightning. Her mouth hung open, her murky eyes fixed on the little boy. “Daddy?” Nancy’s voice trembled. “What… what did you just say? Who did this child call Daddy?” Susan turned around, her face showing a pitiful yet strong expression. She pulled a tissue from her bag and gently dabbed at the corners of her eyes where no tears actually existed. “Nancy,” Susan’s voice was soft and pleasant, with a hint of grievance, “I’m Susan. This is Hudson. He’s Liam’s only flesh and blood.” The room erupted. “Oh my God! Liam had a son outside?” “I knew it. A man as outstanding as Liam couldn’t really be childless.” “This child looks just like Liam! Look at that nose, those eyebrows!” Nancy was trembling with excitement. She pushed me aside and stumbled over, wanting to hold the child. Nancy held Hudson, crying even louder than when her son died, except this time they were tears of joy. Marcus snapped out of it too, immediately changing his attitude, fawning over them: “Oh my, so this is my little nephew? So sturdy! I’m Uncle Marcus!” I remained kneeling in place, watching this touching drama like an outsider. After Susan calmed Nancy down, she turned to look down at me. Her eyes held no guilt toward the legal wife, only the arrogance and provocation of a victor. “You must be Evelyn?” Susan spoke, her voice not loud but enough for everyone to hear. “Evelyn, I’m sorry we hid this from you for so long. Liam was afraid of hurting you and never dared tell you. I came today for one reason only—to let Hudson present flowers to his father, and also… to take back what belongs to Hudson.” I slowly stood up, dusting off my knees. The prolonged kneeling had made my legs numb, but I stood straight. I looked at Susan, the woman who spent my husband’s nineteen million dollars, slept with my husband, and now wanted to take my property. “Miss Susan,” my voice was calm, even carrying a hint of a smile, “are you sure you want to take back what belongs to this child?”

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I chased my husband for ten years. In the end, it was my six-year-old daughter who taught me to let go. That evening at dinner, I tried talking to Ethan again. “Ethan, want to take Daisy to the park on Saturday?” He didn’t look up. I was about to ask again. Daisy suddenly cut me off: “Mom, Dad doesn’t want to talk to you. Can’t you see that?” After Daisy finished dinner, I gave her a bath, told her two stories, and got her to sleep. When I returned to the bedroom, Ethan was leaning against the headboard scrolling through his phone. The blue light from the screen lit up his face. He didn’t even lift his eyelids. In the past, I would’ve sat next to him and carefully ventured, “Ethan, can we talk?” Then I’d get a “Talk about what?” After that, I’d ramble on for ages while he’d say “Mm-hmm,” roll over, and go to sleep. And then I’d be left staring at his back, tears soaking into my pillow. Tonight I didn’t sit down next to him. I grabbed a blanket and went to the study. The folding bed in the study was something I bought last year. At the time, I thought it could be a place to cool off if we ever fought. But later I realized Ethan and I couldn’t even fight. Fighting requires two people. He never engaged. I lay on the folding bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone lit up. A message from my mom: Did my baby have a good day? I replied: Pretty good. For the past ten years, my reply to my mom was always “pretty good.” The messages I sent Ethan were always paragraphs upon paragraphs. He wouldn’t reply. So I’d send another paragraph. He still wouldn’t reply. So I’d call. He’d hang up, so I’d wait by the door when he got off work. My friends said I was too clingy. He said I was too needy. I thought maybe I had a problem too. Chasing someone for ten years—how pathetic could you get? But what Daisy said today was like someone striking a bell next to my ear. A ringing sound, and something shattered. Not heartbreak. It was the shell of some obsession finally cracking. That night, I slept surprisingly well. No dreams, no tears, no waking up in the middle of the night to check if he’d replied. The next morning when my alarm went off, I actually froze for a second. Turns out you can sleep when you’re not waiting for someone to text back. The next day was Wednesday. Every weekday morning before, I’d make breakfast for Ethan and set it on the table. He never said thank you. Occasionally he’d eat it. More often, he’d grab a coffee and leave. Today I only made breakfast for Daisy, then knelt down to braid her hair. When Ethan came out, he glanced at the table. He said nothing. He grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge, picked up his briefcase, and left. The sound of the door closing was identical to every one of the past two thousand days. But for the first time, I didn’t rush after him to say “Drive safe.” Daisy looked up at me. “Mom, you didn’t say goodbye to Dad today.” I smiled and pinched her cheek. “Did Daisy say goodbye to Dad?” She shook her head. “Dad walked away too fast.” Yeah. He always walked away fast. And I’d been chasing for ten years without ever catching up once.

Ethan and I were college classmates. He wasn’t the most handsome guy, but he was clean-cut, quiet, and looked really cool when he focused during basketball games. Every girl in the Literature department knew Madison was chasing Ethan. He’d say, “You shouldn’t wait. It’s too late, it’s not safe.” I’d say, “It’s fine, I don’t have anything else to do anyway.” In the winter of our senior year, he finally agreed to date me. That day I cried in my rental apartment for an hour. Happy tears. Later I gradually realized he didn’t say yes because he was touched. He said yes because “there wasn’t anyone more suitable anyway.” His mother said it once. I heard it with my own ears. “Ethan’s been like this since he was little—never takes initiative. You chased him so persistently back then, so he just said yes.” She said it casually, like it was the most ordinary thing. I stood in the kitchen doorway holding a plate of freshly cut fruit, my fingers gripping the edge of the plate. The first year of marriage was okay. Though he didn’t talk much, at least on weekends he’d take walks with me. When I said I wanted to see a movie, he’d complain it was a hassle but still go. The turning point came after Daisy was born. During postpartum recovery, I took care of the baby alone. He was always working overtime, on business trips, at dinners—there was always a reason not to be home. I’d be up all night breastfeeding until I broke down, and when I called him, he’d say, “Daisy has you, doesn’t she?” I asked if he could come home earlier. He said, “Can you stop being like this? I’m tired too, you know.” “Like this”—what did he mean by that? He walked out of the bedroom and glanced at me. “What now?” I said, “Can you just hold me?” He sighed, turned around, and went back to the bedroom. The door clicked shut. That was the first time I felt that what separated us wasn’t just a door. It was thousands of miles. But back then, I didn’t stop. I kept chasing, kept messaging, kept waiting. I thought if I just tried a little harder, he’d turn around and look at me. Ten years. I chased for a full ten years. Chased until I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. In college, I ranked first in my major. My graduation project won honors, and my advisor recommended me to a design firm. I didn’t go. Because Ethan had signed with a company in this city. I thought being together was most important. Later when Daisy was born, I quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom. Ethan said, “It’s better if you stay home anyway. Saves us from hiring a nanny.” That design firm later grew big and won several industry awards. Occasionally I’d see their work on social media and stop to look for a long time. Then I’d lock my screen and go back to washing baby bottles.

The change happened little by little. The first week after I stopped chasing Ethan, I felt a bit out of sorts. My hand would instinctively reach for my phone, wanting to open SnapChat to see if he’d replied. Then I’d remember—I hadn’t sent any messages. I didn’t send any, so naturally there was nothing to wait for. It was a strange feeling. Like a person who’d been running for ten years suddenly hitting the brakes. Inertia kept you moving forward, but your feet had already stopped. On the third day, I made a decision. On my way home from work, instead of going straight home, I turned down a street I’d never taken before. At the end of the street was a gym, orange light spilling through the glass doors. I stood at the entrance for thirty seconds, then pushed the door open. The receptionist asked if I wanted a trial class. “I’ll take an annual membership.” Three thousand six hundred dollars. My hand didn’t even shake when I swiped the card. This was the first time I’d spent a significant amount of money on myself without messaging Ethan to say “I got a gym membership.” Before, if I spent more than two hundred dollars, I’d tell him proactively, like I was reporting to him. His reaction was always the same: “Okay, if it makes you happy.” Now I stopped reporting. On the fifth day, I pulled out that gray canvas bag from the corner. Inside were my college sketches, design drafts, and that offer letter from the design firm. The offer was long expired, of course, but the drafts remained. When I opened the first page, I caught the smell of old paper. Daisy came over to look. “Did you draw this, Mom? It’s so pretty!” “Yeah, Mom used to draw.” “Used to? Can’t you draw anymore?” I looked at her earnest little face. “I still can. I just haven’t drawn in a long time.” That night after Daisy fell asleep, I cleared off the dining table, spread out paper, and drew. My hand was rusty. The lines weren’t as clean as before. But when I finished the last stroke, something inside me loosened. Like a pipe that had been clogged for ages finally dripping out a drop of water. During those two weeks, Ethan didn’t notice a thing. I stopped messaging him—he didn’t ask “Why aren’t you messaging me anymore?” I stopped calling—he didn’t call to ask “Why haven’t you been calling lately?” I stopped waiting by the door—he’d come home, change shoes, eat, scroll his phone, sleep. Everything as usual. Turned out my presence meant so little. So little that I could disappear and he wouldn’t even notice. Before, I thought that was pathetic. Now I thought—that’s fine. It meant that me not chasing him didn’t affect him at all. So what was the point of chasing him for ten years? The point was: there was no point. Those four words hurt more than any time he’d hung up on me. But after the pain came a strange kind of relief. My friend Sarah asked me to dinner. She was the only college friend I’d stayed in touch with over the years. After we sat down and ordered, she spoke first. “You look better lately.” “Do I?” “Yeah. Before, your first sentence to me was always ‘He didn’t reply to my messages again.’ Today you didn’t mention it.” I smiled slightly. “I stopped chasing.” Sarah’s hand froze mid-reach for her food. “What did you say?” “I said I’m not chasing Ethan anymore.” She put down her fork and looked at me carefully for five seconds. Then she did something. She applauded. Right there in the steakhouse, with the neighboring tables looking over, she clapped three times loudly.. “Madison, that’s the clearest thing you’ve said in ten years.” Her clapping left me a bit dazed, and also wanting to cry. But I held it in.

The third week, Ethan’s mother, Helen, came over. Helen visited two or three times a year, staying about a week each time. She wasn’t a bad person, but she had a talent for saying the most hurtful things in the most casual tone. The evening she arrived, she scanned the living room. “Madison dear, why haven’t you been tidying up the house lately? Didn’t you used to keep everything spotless?” Before, whenever she visited, I’d do a deep clean three days in advance. I’d scrub the kitchen until it gleamed, fold towels by color, even sort Daisy’s toys into storage bins. This time I didn’t. Not on purpose. It was because after work I went to the gym, then came home and drew for a while. There wasn’t enough time. “Been busy lately,” I said. Helen didn’t respond, but I noticed her glance at Ethan. I knew that look well. Translated: “Look at your wife, getting more and more out of line.” This time Ethan actually spoke up. “Mom, it’s fine. The house is pretty clean.” Helen smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” The next day, while Ethan was out, Helen cornered me in the kitchen. “Madison dear, is there some conflict between you and Ethan?” “No.” “Then why aren’t you talking to him anymore? You used to chat with him constantly.” My knife kept moving through the vegetables. “Helen, you said it yourself before. You said I was too clingy, that men need space.” Helen’s smile froze for a second. “I said that for your own good. Between husband and wife, women shouldn’t be too forward. You need to be a bit reserved.” I dumped the cut vegetables into a bowl. “See, now I’m being reserved.” Helen looked at me for a while. “Why are you talking like this, child? So passive-aggressive.” “I’m not being passive-aggressive, Helen. I’m really learning to be reserved.” Her mouth moved, but she didn’t say anything more. As I turned to wash the knife, I heard her mutter under her breath. “Getting more and more disrespectful.” Before, hearing that would’ve made me panic, made me reflect on what I’d done wrong. Now I just wanted to laugh. “Disrespectful” meant: not easy to control anymore. Helen left after five days. Before leaving, she called Ethan out to the balcony for a fifteen-minute conversation. I stayed in the living room coloring with Daisy. I couldn’t hear what they said. But when Ethan came back in, his expression was complicated. He stood next to me, like he wanted to say something. I didn’t look up. He stood there for several seconds, then left. That night, he asked me a question on his own initiative. “Have you been angry at me lately?” I was in the study drawing. I didn’t look up. “No.” “Then why won’t you talk to me anymore?” I stopped my pen. This question was really something. I’d chased him for ten years, saying dozens of sentences every day. He found me annoying. I’d been quiet for three weeks, and now he was asking. “I’m not refusing to talk to you.” I kept drawing. “I just realized there’s nothing much to say.” He froze. That sentence was too familiar. Because over the past ten years, he’d said it to me at least a hundred times. He probably remembered too, because his expression changed. But he didn’t say anything more. He turned and left. Just like his past thousand turns and departures. Only this time, the person left standing wasn’t me.

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While shopping at the supermarket with my three-year-old son, he suddenly called out “Daddy!” to a man’s back. I quickly covered my son’s mouth. “Sorry, sir…” The man turned around. When I saw his face clearly, the rest of my words stuck in my throat. It was Sebastian Knight. His gaze fell on my face, then slowly moved to the child. The air went quiet for a moment. I instinctively pulled my child closer and said calmly, “Long time no see. We have to go now.” As we left the supermarket, my son tugged at my sleeve and asked, “Mommy, who was that man?” I looked down and straightened his collar. “A stranger.” My son is three years old. Counting back, Sebastian and I have been separated for three years now. … By the time we got home, it was completely dark. Ian asked me, “Mommy, who was that man really?” I closed the refrigerator door and turned to look at him. “I told you, a stranger.” “But he kept staring at me.” Ian tilted his head, looking puzzled. “He seemed like he knew me.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked over, picked him up, and headed to the bathroom. I mechanically helped him bathe. But in my mind, I couldn’t stop replaying Sebastian’s expression. Three years. I thought we’d never see each other again in this lifetime. But fate had other plans. At ten o’clock that night, Ian finally fell asleep. Those eyebrows, that nose—they really did look like Sebastian’s. Like they were carved from the same mold. My phone vibrated. I picked it up. It was a friend request on SnapChat. “It’s me.” Of course I knew it was Sebastian. Always so presumptuous. As if the whole world should revolve around him, as if everyone should remember everything about him. I calmly pressed the lock screen button. I didn’t accept it, but I didn’t reject it either. I turned off the light and lay down beside Ian. In the darkness, memories from three years ago came flooding back like a tide, scene by scene. All those images I thought I’d forgotten, all those wounds I thought had healed—they were all torn open again. Three years ago. When Sebastian and I first got together, we actually had a happy period. He was very gentle then. He would drive to my office building and wait for me to get off work. Every time I walked out of the building, warmth would flood my heart. He remembered which bakery’s chestnut cake I’d mentioned liking. On rainy days, he would tilt most of the umbrella toward me. I truly believed I’d met the right person. But reality slapped me in the face soon enough. The gap in our backgrounds was like an insurmountable chasm. He was the heir to the Knight family. He had a driver, a private chef, and every piece of clothing he wore cost more than my monthly salary. And me? I was just an ordinary working girl fresh out of college. I rented an old apartment in the suburbs, took the crowded subway to work every morning, and ate fifteen-dollar takeout for lunch. I was always afraid of being looked down on by people in his circle, afraid they’d say I was social climbing. So I never took his money. When we went out to eat, I would quietly transfer him half the bill. Every time he received the transfer, he would frown and say it wasn’t necessary to split things so clearly. But I insisted. I thought this almost stubborn independence would earn me equal respect. But I was wrong. Sebastian had a friend named Jonathan. He was also a colleague at my previous company. Jonathan and I were just acquaintances. We barely even chatted on SnapChat. When we ran into each other at the office, we’d just nod and say “morning.” That was it. Until that party. The party was at a very upscale private club. It was my first time at a place like that. The private room was filled with smoke, with men and women I didn’t know sitting around. Everyone was dressed so elegantly. The women wore sparkling jewelry, and the men’s watches were clearly worth a fortune. I sat next to Sebastian, completely out of place. That’s when Victoria appeared. She was Sebastian’s childhood friend, a real socialite. She walked over with a wine glass, her gaze scanning me up and down. Then she smiled and turned to Sebastian. “Sebastian, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Sebastian held my hand. “This is Rain. My girlfriend.” Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Rain. I heard you and Jonathan are quite close?” All eyes turned to me. Victoria pretended to look surprised, covering her mouth. “Oh my, did I remember wrong?” I froze for a moment and instinctively looked at Sebastian. He was leaning back on the sofa, playing with a lighter. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I could only force myself to speak. “We just worked at the same company before. We’ve only met a few times.” “Just met a few times?” Victoria’s smile was loaded with meaning. “How strange. I heard Jonathan used to pursue you.” My hand clenched tight. “That’s not true, Miss Victoria. You heard wrong.” “Really?” Victoria shrugged. “Then maybe I did hear wrong.” She raised her glass and clinked it with Sebastian’s. “But Sebastian, you’d better keep a close eye on her.” Sebastian lifted his eyelids and gave Victoria a cool glance. “My business is none of your concern.” Victoria smiled carelessly and returned to her seat. I spent the rest of that party on edge. On the drive home, the atmosphere in the car was heavy. Sebastian didn’t say a word. “Sebastian.” I called his name. He kept his eyes on the road. “What?” “Jonathan and I really aren’t close.” Sebastian turned the steering wheel as the car entered the residential area. “I know.” His voice was calm. But I didn’t catch the dismissiveness hidden in those words.

From that day on, Victoria started spreading rumors in their circle. Saying I used to date Jonathan. Saying I was a gold digger who specialized in seducing wealthy men. I was shaking with anger. The water glass in my hand was trembling so much the water nearly spilled. But what made me feel even colder was that these rumors reached Sebastian’s ears. He changed. He stopped picking me up from work like before. He used to arrive ten minutes early, leaning against his car door waiting for me. When he saw me come out, he’d smile and open the car door for me. Now he stopped coming. His text replies got slower and slower. They used to be instant. Then they became a few minutes. Then hours. When we occasionally ate together, he would casually drop Jonathan’s name into conversation. “Jonathan got a new car today.” “Jonathan’s going to Europe on business next month.” Every time he mentioned it, he would look at me with that penetrating gaze, as if observing my reaction. That look made me very uncomfortable. Like an interrogation, watching to see if I’d slip up somehow. One night at his apartment. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. His apartment was in an upscale complex on the west side of the city. The living room was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city at night. I put down my water glass and looked at him. “Sebastian, what’s been going on with you lately?” He sat on the sofa, looking at his laptop screen. “Nothing. Just busy with work.” “Is it because of what Victoria said?” I cut straight to the point. Sebastian looked up, his gaze heavy as he stared at me. “What did you hear?” “What I heard doesn’t matter.” I took a deep breath. “What matters is whether you believe it.” I walked up to him, crouched down, and looked into his eyes. His eyes were deep brown. I used to feel safe looking into those eyes. But now, all I saw in them was coldness and suspicion. “I’ll explain one last time. Jonathan and I are just colleagues. The person I like is you. From beginning to end, only you.” Sebastian looked at me. “If he’s just an acquaintance, why didn’t you mention him before?” I froze. “Because there was nothing worth mentioning.” I looked at him in disbelief. “I can’t exactly report every male colleague I know to you, can I?” Sebastian let out a cold laugh. “Don’t want to mention him, or feeling guilty?” My whole body stiffened. “What did you say?” “Rain, you really don’t need to be so defensive.” He stood up, looking down at me. “I’m just asking.” He turned and walked toward the balcony, lighting a cigarette. The lighter flared up, then went dark. Through the glass door, I watched his back and suddenly felt he was so unfamiliar. I thought if I was sincere enough, he would eventually believe me. But I didn’t know. The seed of doubt in Sebastian’s heart had already begun to grow wild. That night, I didn’t stay at his place. I walked alone through the late-night streets. The wind cut across my face like a knife. I had no idea that the worst was still to come.

The breaking point came half a month later. That day was Sebastian’s birthday. I’d spent a month’s salary to buy him a watch he’d had his eye on for a long time. I’d looked at that watch in the mall three times, each time pretending I was just passing by. The sales clerk behind the counter probably remembered me by then. When I bought that watch, my bank account had less than a hundred dollars left. But I was so happy. I put the watch in a deep blue gift box and tied it with a bow. I went to his office full of joy. But in the underground parking garage, I saw him standing with Victoria. The parking garage lights were dim. Victoria held an elegant gift box in her hands, smiling as she handed it to him. “Happy birthday, Sebastian.” Sebastian took it. “Thanks.” “Is Jonathan coming today?” Victoria asked casually. “Yes.” Sebastian said. “Well, you’d better keep an eye on Rain.” Victoria laughed behind her hand. “Don’t let them rekindle old flames. That wouldn’t look good for you.” I stood behind a pillar, expecting Sebastian to refute her. But he didn’t. So this was what I was to him—a woman who needed to be watched, to be warned about. I turned around and threw the watch box into the trash. That night, we had our most explosive fight in his apartment. I poured out all the grievances I’d been holding in for the past two weeks. Sebastian finally said what he’d been holding back too. His eyes were red as he stared at me. “Did you get close to me because of Jonathan? Did you settle for me because you couldn’t have him?” I looked at him in disbelief, tears streaming down my face. The tears flowed down my cheeks, unstoppable. “Sebastian, are you insane?” “Answer me!” He grabbed my shoulders so hard it hurt. His fingers dug into me like iron clamps, my bones creaking under the pressure. “Have you ever really liked me? Or do you just like money? Can anyone sleep with you as long as they have money?” I looked at this man who was nearly mad. The fortress in my heart came crashing down. I didn’t struggle. I just let the tears fall. “Sebastian.” I looked at him, my voice hoarse. “You never believed me.” I pulled away from his grip and turned toward the door. “Let’s break up.” The next day, I moved out of that apartment. Sebastian didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t even send a single message. When I was packing, his hands stayed in his pockets. He stood in the middle of the living room, watching me pack my things into boxes one by one. From beginning to end, he didn’t say a word. When I walked out of the complex dragging my suitcase, the sun was bright. I stood at the roadside waiting for a taxi. The sunlight shone on me, warm. But I couldn’t feel any warmth at all. Beep beep beep— The alarm pulled me back to reality. I took a deep breath and sat up in bed. Wash up, make breakfast, send Ian to kindergarten, then go to work. Life had to go on. My current company was in an office building in the CBD. I was holding coffee when I walked downstairs. My steps froze. Outside the entrance, a black Maybach was parked. Sebastian leaned against the car door, wearing a well-tailored black suit. He was smoking. The smoke dispersed in front of him, blurring his features. When he saw me, he stubbed out the cigarette and straightened up. Colleagues passing by were all sneaking glances at him. I gripped my coffee cup tighter, forced myself to look away, and walked straight ahead. “Rain.” He called my name. I ignored him and quickened my pace. He took several steps forward and blocked my path. “We need to talk.”

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My clothes, especially my underwear, had been smelling strange lately. Even though the hospital tests proved there was nothing wrong with me, and I’d switched to more expensive brands, that rotten smell still lingered, faint but persistent. I suspected someone was stealing my clothes and wearing them! After being tormented for over a month, I’d had enough. I collected asbestos fibers from a construction site and used tweezers to carefully insert them into my clothes. At dawn, screams—both male and female—echoed through the dorm. My sixth sense told me I was being targeted by a pervert. This past month, everything from the toothbrush and towel on my desk to the clothes hanging on the balcony carried a strange smell. When I picked up my towel to wash up, a fishy odor hit me in the face. “Ugh…” I nearly gagged. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I just assumed the towel quality was poor. But the next day, my newly purchased towel had that same smell again. Even my freshly washed underwear reeked of it—the stench was even stronger. I asked my roommates if they knew what was going on. But they all shook their heads, claiming ignorance. To rule out any physical issues, I immediately booked a full-body checkup at the city hospital. The doctor told me there was nothing wrong with me. I bought different brands of towels and underwear, but strangely, that fishy smell followed me everywhere. Anything I wore or washed would smell like that the next day. A chill ran down my spine. The problem wasn’t with me—it was in the dorm. Someone in this dorm was a pervert! I rushed to check the security footage with the dorm supervisor. I found nothing. That left only one possibility. That day, I tactfully tried to talk to my roommates. “If any of you like girls, you can just say so openly…” Before I could finish, Lopez cut me off impatiently. “Georgina, if you’re sick, go to the hospital.” “Physical problems need medical treatment. Mental problems need a therapist.” “First you claimed there was a pervert in the dorm and insisted on checking the security footage.” “Now you’re questioning our sexual orientation?” “What, you think we’re the ones making your stuff smell?” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Georgina, you… you don’t have an STD, do you?” “I heard some STDs cause a fishy smell…” Before she could finish, my other two roommates looked horrified and unconsciously took a step back, as if I were some kind of monster. My face turned red with anger. “Your mouth stinks so bad—did you forget to brush your teeth today?” “My mouth may stink, but at least it smells better than certain people’s underwear.” Lopez smiled mockingly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Certain people wear such provocative underwear—if we didn’t know better, we’d think they were kept women.” “We’re all good girls here. If certain people don’t behave properly, don’t drag us down with you.” As soon as she finished, the other two roommates looked even more serious. Milner spoke awkwardly, her face troubled. “Georgina, maybe you should go to a bigger hospital for a checkup today.” “If it really is… that kind of disease, it could spread…” Someone chimed in agreement, and Lopez’s face grew even more smug. She grabbed a bottle of disinfectant spray, laughing arrogantly. “Look at you—catching a disease and making others worry about it. Let me disinfect you first.” The stinging mist hit me in the face, instantly soaking me. Amid the other girls’ screams, I grabbed Lopez’s arm tightly. “Your mouth is filthy, and so are your hands, huh?” “Since your parents aren’t here, I’ll teach you some manners on their behalf!” With that, I grabbed her hair and forcefully shoved her head toward the mop bucket. Lopez’s face changed dramatically as she struggled to resist. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” “What? Scared now?” “I want you to remember this taste, so you’ll think twice before running your mouth again!” The next second, I dunked her head into the water. “Glug glug glug…” “Bleurgh…” “Glug glug glug…” Only when Lopez’s hair was covered in sticky vomit did I finally let go. “Ahhhh!!!” Lopez’s scream was bloodcurdling as she frantically leaned over the sink, retching. I watched coldly as this roommate who constantly slandered me behind my back finally got what she deserved. Lopez’s eyes were red as she wiped her mouth furiously and lunged at me with her claws out. “Georgina, I’ll kill you!” I grabbed the mop beside me and precisely jammed it into the bucket. Lopez froze in place as if struck by lightning. I smiled coldly. “Fight me? You have the guts for that?” With that, I swung the mop toward Lopez. In an instant, Lopez’s face went pale with fear. “Don’t come any closer!” The dorm filled with endless screams.

Professor McCoy from the school contacted me soon after. “Georgina, come to my office immediately.” Anyone with half a brain could guess Lopez had reported me. I looked up just in time to see her disheveled yet defiant expression. She was washing her hair with one hand while holding up her phone triumphantly with the other. Useless! She insults and attacks first, but runs to tattle when she can’t handle it? I’d been angry, but seeing the thick, chunky mixture in her hair, my anger instantly dissipated. “Georgina, you’re done for! I’m telling you, you’re finished!” As soon as I entered the office, a loud “bang” echoed. “Georgina, are you looking to get disciplined?” “Openly beating up a classmate in the dorm—do you even think this is a school anymore!” Looking at the book thrown at my feet, I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice calm. “Professor McCoy, Lopez verbally abused me and attacked me first.” He didn’t even look up, delivering his verdict directly. “Enough. Go apologize to Lopez.” “Be sincere about it, and I won’t put this on your record.” “Write a five-thousand-word self-criticism. It’ll be announced campus-wide.” Then he ignored me, focusing on his writing as if he’d just bestowed some great mercy upon me. I couldn’t take it and immediately argued back. “She attacked first! Why am I the only one being punished?” “Even if you investigate thoroughly, this was mutual assault at most!” He adjusted his glasses, looking impatient. “Lopez is an excellent student. Would she do something like that?” “Look at yourself. Are you even worthy of mentioning her name?” Good grades represent character? My anger flared up instantly, and I raised my voice. “Professor McCoy, you’re completely biased!” “Stop your yapping!” Professor McCoy slammed his pen down hard on the desk, his face stern. “You think I’m giving you face, don’t you!” “Do you know how many students I’m responsible for?” “Three mechanical engineering classes, three automation classes, two physics classes—nearly two hundred and fifty people!” “Regardless of what happened before, did you or did you not hit someone? If you did, you have to accept the consequences!” I felt all the blood in my body rush to my head in that moment. “Someone like you—you’re qualified to be a teacher?” He scoffed, his eyes full of contempt. “Whether I’m qualified to be a teacher isn’t for you to decide. I was going to leave you some dignity, but now, forget it.” “Lopez already told me everything. You, as a student, have no shame! Call your parents here. I need to have a good talk with them!” “Do you realize how serious your behavior is?” My eyes lit up, and I immediately cut him off. “Call my parents? Fine, I got it. Anything else?” Professor McCoy’s face stiffened, seemingly unable to adapt to my tone. I didn’t bother wasting more words and immediately contacted my lazy, greedy aunt Mary and uncle Mueller. “Come to school. Money opportunity. Come now.”

I wasn’t always like this. My parents died when I was young, and my brother died on the border. At nine years old, I became dependent on Mary’s family. Not only did I have to wash clothes and cook, serving as their maid, but I also had to endure bullying from my cousin Fabio. Ten years of abuse, day in and day out. In that environment, besides going crazy, I couldn’t think of any other way to survive until now. Soon, Mueller rushed to the school. Without wasting words, he slapped me as soon as he arrived. “You bitch, what trouble did you cause at school now? I’ll deal with you when we get home!” I immediately slapped him right back. “There was a mosquito on your face just now. I helped you swat it.” Professor McCoy stood there stunned, watching us fight as soon as we met, forgetting what he’d wanted to say. After those two slaps, we finally sat down calmly. I looked at him earnestly. “Mueller, I understand everything now. All my crazy behavior before was because I was traumatized.” “What do you mean?” Mueller looked at me, confused. I pointed at McCoy and said to Mueller: “This Professor McCoy has been touching me inappropriately. He’s been sexually harassing me.” Then, my acting skills exploded as tears streamed down my face. “I heard that at the neighboring school, a girl was molested by McCoy and her family got three hundred thousand in compensation.” “In my case, it should be at least five hundred thousand, right? You should demand compensation from him—consider it my way of repaying you for raising me.” Mueller’s eyes grew increasingly greedy. “We can really get five hundred thousand?” The teacher panicked. “No, calm down, I…” “Of course he won’t admit it or pay up.” I cut off McCoy’s defense. “But if you make a scene at the school, they’ll pay to minimize the impact.” I obediently closed the office door. When I reached the dorm entrance, I heard Lopez’s triumphant voice. “I’m telling you, Georgina just relies on her looks to be someone’s mistress, right?” “This time she’ll definitely get punished.” “Wow, Lopez, you have such a good relationship with Professor McCoy.” Milner lowered her voice. “That graduate school admission spot…” “Don’t worry. Our class still has one spot left. It’s just a matter of one word from me.” Suddenly it all made sense. My GPA was clearly first in the class, 0.2 points higher than Lopez’s, yet the graduate school spot went to her. So that’s what I was missing—the right “qualifications.” But none of that mattered now. I had more important things to do. I needed to find the source of that smell quickly. Otherwise, I’d eventually lose my mind in this dorm! I opened my browser, and a news story from Florida suddenly caught my attention. [To take revenge on her ex-boyfriend, during their final encounter, the woman scattered asbestos fibers all over her underwear.] I immediately searched for asbestos fibers. The information online was crystal clear: [Asbestos fibers: Category 1 carcinogen. Once in the lungs, the damage is irreversible, making life a living hell.] Perfect! My eyes lit up instantly. Not far from school, there was a construction site. And coincidentally, I could see asbestos tiles there. I set out immediately. As for ordering online? Only an idiot would leave such obvious evidence.

On my way out of school, many people pointed and whispered about me. “Isn’t she Georgina from the chemistry department?” “She looks pretty decent, but her behavior is so shameless.” “Where’s she going? That’s the way out of school, right?” “Holy crap! Is she under so much psychological pressure that she’s thinking of suicide?” Soon, another rumor about me spread. The chemistry department beauty, suspected of seeking death in shame. As I neared the school gate, people’s reactions became even more obvious. Many whispered among themselves, and some even pulled out their phones to secretly photograph me. I couldn’t take it anymore and randomly grabbed a girl nearby. “Excuse me, do you have some problem with me?” The girl screamed and struggled, slapping at the clothes I was holding while covering her nose with her other hand, trying to escape. The girl beside her frowned and stepped back several paces. “Your business is all over the forum. Stop pretending to be innocent.” “Sleep around if you want, but catching an STD? Disgusting!” My anger flared. “What business? What did I do? Explain yourselves!” Hearing this, they immediately ran off, as if speaking one more word to me would infect them with some virus. I quickly opened the school forum. My photo was prominently displayed on the cover. [Chemistry Department’s Georgina Gets Slapped Hard by Her Sugar Daddy After Questioning Whether He Gave Her an STD!] The post was filled with photos. One showed Mueller slapping me hard across the face. Another showed me at the hospital, and there was even a photo of yellow stains on my underwear. The photo angles were extremely cunning. The series of photos perfectly portrayed the image of an indecent female college student. The comments section was the most disgusting. [I knew this girl was bad news all along!] [The stuff she does normally isn’t what a regular female student would do.] [Are the guys in the chemistry department not good enough? Can’t satisfy her?] [Does anyone have Georgina’s contact info? Hook me up. Such a thirsty college girl—I think I can handle her.] [You’re a true warrior, going for someone with an STD.] Countless vile insults. Even though I was battle-hardened, I couldn’t help but freeze for a moment. I immediately replied: [Spreading rumors is illegal. Do not spread rumors. Serious offenders will face legal action.] Someone immediately responded: [Here comes the classic “legal action” threat.] [If you sleep around, own it. You already did it—afraid of people talking?] Malice piled upon malice, overwhelming me. I didn’t reply again. Instead, I opened my phone and saved all the evidence using blockchain storage.

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When I was selecting wedding rings with my celebrity fiancée, paparazzi accidentally caught our silhouettes. Wesley wasn’t angry at all. Instead, she smiled. “What’s there to be afraid of? Let’s just go public then.” After four years of keeping our relationship secret, I thought she was finally ready to announce us. My heart filled with joy. But the next day at the cruise party, right in front of all the media. She slipped the wedding ring onto the finger of Alfred, a newcomer at the company, and announced their relationship. Seeing my stunned expression, Wesley said lazily: “Alfred just debuted recently. He needs the publicity and exposure. Besides, if people found out my fiancé is just an assistant, how embarrassing would that be for me? Don’t worry, I’ll still marry you.” Alfred smugly wrapped his arm around her waist. The matching couple’s rings on their hands silently declared how superfluous and ridiculous I was. I calmly pulled out my phone and immediately canceled over a dozen top-tier projects and resources I’d planned to give her. “What a coincidence—I also don’t like being taken advantage of.” “So I’m planning to find a fiancée who won’t embarrass me.”

In the cruise ship’s luxury suite, silence reigned. Wesley frowned with displeasure. “Louis, you have the guts to say that again.” “What does it matter whether we go public or not? As long as we know the truth ourselves, isn’t that enough? Are you really that vain?” Even at this point, she still thought I was the vain one. A wave of disgust surged in my chest. “I’ll say it eight hundred times and it’ll be the same. Wesley, I quit being your assistant. We’re breaking up.” The surrounding air instantly froze. Alfred played with his prayer beads, laughing mockingly. “Louis, why be so petty? Forget about scandal rumors—even actual cheating would be normal.” “Wesley just feels bad that I’m struggling alone and wants to help boost my profile a bit.” “Since you’re so upset, why don’t you announce your relationship too? I’ll help you.” Before I could respond, he directly started a live stream on his phone. In less than half a minute, the stream flooded with fans. Alfred complained to the camera about me: “Assistants these days are so possessive of their artists.” “Louis came storming up to me, forcing me to say he’s Wesley’s boyfriend. From the looks of it, if I don’t agree, he might even hit me.” “So scary. If he says so, then fine—I’ll just be the fake one.” As soon as he finished speaking, fans from both sides flooded the comments with insults directed at me. “Hilarious. Everyone knows Wesley is at the peak of her popularity right now. An assistant who pours tea and water wants to climb the social ladder? He must be delusional.” “Alfred is Wesley’s officially acknowledged boyfriend. You poor loser—do you even qualify?” “You’d better behave yourself. If you dare lay a finger on Alfred, you’ll regret it!” I nearly laughed from anger. Alfred didn’t give me a chance to speak and ended the stream directly. He covered his mouth with mock surprise, his eyes full of provocation. “I already proved your identity, so why don’t they believe you?” “Louis, turns out everyone can see you’re just trying to climb above your station. But people should own up to their actions—you’re not mad, are you?”

Wesley acted as if she saw nothing. She’d even just sent gifts to Alfred’s stream, expressing her approval. I pushed Alfred aside and raised my phone with a cold laugh. “Mr. Alfred speaks so well about owning up to one’s actions.” “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I post your true face online and let your fans know you’re actually two-faced?” Alfred’s expression changed, and he turned his head with a hurt look. “Wesley, he’s threatening me…” The next second, my phone was suddenly snatched away. Wesley deleted the recording and shoved me angrily. “Louis, don’t you dare!” “He wasn’t wrong—you’re just a parasite living off me. Your family should be honored I’m even willing to marry you!” “Alfred has unlimited potential. Announcing our relationship publicly means we can share resources in the future. What can you do besides serving tea and water like a servant?” “You’re forcing me to go public with you just to satisfy that little bit of vanity, aren’t you?” She looked down at me with contempt. “I don’t even need to look to guess—what you just deleted was a Twitter post bragging about landing a celebrity, right?” “What’s wrong? Finally realized how shameless you are and got embarrassed?” “Louis, enough is enough. I can buy you another ring, but if you keep making unreasonable demands, don’t blame me for really not marrying you!” My chest tightened with a dull pain. After four years of sincere devotion, in her eyes, I was nothing but a vain parasite. But Wesley was wrong. What I’d deleted were top-tier resources and projects she could only dream of—over a dozen of them. I’d originally planned to give them to her as gifts after going public, but she didn’t deserve them. “Well, thank you so much then. Goodbye.” I said coldly and walked alone to the deck, wanting to ask the crew for a small boat. But a familiar voice came from behind me. “Wait!” Wesley came out with Alfred on her arm. She traced a circle in the air with her fingertip, half-smiling. “Louis, don’t forget—I chartered this entire cruise ship tonight. Only my friends and boyfriend can use anything on it.” “Since we’ve broken up, what gives you the right to ask for a boat? Don’t tell me you want another free ride?” “How about this—I’ll rent one to you for a million dollars. If you can’t afford it, swim back yourself. And don’t think about using my card—I already had it frozen.” The night sea wind howled, carving an icy hole in my chest. I’d told Wesley that as a child, relatives pushed me into the ocean and I nearly drowned. Even though I later learned to swim, I was still afraid of water. Now she was deliberately using my childhood trauma as a blade to stab me. Her manager Leo, as a witness to our secret relationship. Now looked uncomfortable and tried to persuade her. “Wesley, it’s winter. This place is at least twenty kilometers from shore. How could an ordinary person swim that far? What if something happens?” “Louis doesn’t have that much money. He’s taken care of you all these years—don’t go too far.” Wesley lit a cigarette and smirked sarcastically. “Too far? I’m being nice by not charging him for the cruise party admission.” “Otherwise, with his status, he wouldn’t even qualify to come aboard. I’ve just spoiled him too much normally. I need to teach him to be obedient.”

“Louis, don’t say I’m heartless. Just apologize and promise not to compete with Alfred anymore, and I’ll forgive you.” Alfred hugged her waist, smiling. “Louis, Wesley’s already giving you an out. Stop being stubborn.” “Besides, when did people like you who only care about money ever deserve status?” Wesley affectionately pinched his cheek without any objection. I knew she was using this to control me. Forcing me to learn submission, to be her underground lover who could never see the light of day. I said nothing, just calmly put my phone in a waterproof bag. Then I climbed over the railing and jumped into the sea without hesitation. Amid the shocked gasps, Wesley’s eyes widened in disbelief. I fought through my fear, swimming desperately toward the shore. But the winter seawater was too cold, the distance too far. I gradually couldn’t hold on. Fortunately, I encountered two men in a small boat midway. They said they were volunteers cleaning garbage from the nearby waters. They pulled me up and warmly handed me a bowl of warm fish soup, which helped me recover somewhat. But a few minutes later, I felt dizzy and disoriented. Those two men’s friendly faces changed completely as they approached me with sinister grins. “So you’re the one who threatened Alfred, right? We came specifically to teach you a lesson! After we’re done with you, we’ll throw you in the sea to feed the fish!” My heart sank. These were Alfred’s fans! My phone rang—the caller ID showed Wesley. I grabbed a sharp fishing spear nearby and held it in front of me. Taking advantage of their momentary wariness, I quickly answered. Her voice came through, breathless with passion. “Are you dead yet? If not, come back and change the sheets.” “Some paparazzi suspect Alfred and I are just staging a publicity stunt and are hiding outside the window taking photos, so we had to make it real.” Fighting the nausea in my stomach, I desperately called for help. “Wesley, Alfred’s fans drugged me—they’re trying to kill me!” “I’m northeast of the cruise ship, about two kilometers away. Come save me quickly!” Wesley immediately said with concern: “What?! I’ll be right there…” The next second, Alfred’s sarcastic voice came through. “Louis, I really didn’t expect you to be so good at sowing discord.” “My friends just left from that direction and didn’t see anyone. You’re just pretending to be pitiful to make Wesley come find you, aren’t you?” “Wesley, he probably has media planted nearby, just waiting to force you to reconcile and go public with your relationship. Don’t let him manipulate you.” Before I could explain, Wesley shouted angrily. “Louis, you’re so selfish! Do you have to make people mock me?!” “You want to get back together? Fine. Kneel at my door tomorrow morning and say you were wrong!” “Without me, you can’t even find a decent job. Just wait to starve on the streets and think it over!” The phone was hung up. My heart went completely cold. Those two men laughed viciously. “See that? She only has eyes for Alfred.” “You shameless creep dared to destroy Alfred’s happiness—I’ll kill you!” They snatched away the fishing spear and knocked my phone away. I was pressed against the wet, cold deck. In despair, a blinding white light suddenly appeared in the distance. Someone was racing across the water on a jet ski.

“Don’t hurt him!” It wasn’t Wesley who came, but tourists who’d been night fishing nearby. One of the group members saw my predicament through binoculars and immediately called his companions to rescue me. They took those two fans to a nearby police station. After finishing the police statement, dawn had already broken. I thanked them and headed straight for the airport, not wanting to stay a moment longer. But while waiting for a taxi, I was surrounded by Wesley’s bodyguards. The lead one was named Brown. “Miss Wesley is hosting a private villa party today for a famous director, trying to get Alfred the male lead in the director’s next film.” “She said that if she wants the negotiation to succeed, you must attend. Please come with us.” I instinctively thought Wesley had discovered my true identity. But judging by Brown’s contemptuous attitude, clearly not. I frowned. “I’m not going. Move aside.” Brown shoved me hard and stomped my fallen phone to pieces. “Louis, you’re just an assistant! Without Wesley, you’re nothing! Stop talking nonsense. Take him!” When we arrived at the villa, I discovered this was an extremely private party. No media, and every guest had to surrender their phones. The guests attending were mostly business owners with some wealth. Each had a minor celebrity sitting beside them, all fairly close friends with Wesley or Alfred. An uneasy feeling stirred in my chest. Seeing me, Wesley walked over, frowning. “I heard you were going to the airport. Where were you planning to go?” My expression was cold. “Back to my hometown to keep my grandfather company. Is that a problem for you?” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, as if she’d expected this. “As I thought. Without me, you only have enough money for a plane ticket—you can’t even afford decent new clothes.” “Louis, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. I’ve already received an invitation for the female lead role in that female director’s next film.” Wesley threw a suit at me. “Put this on. Tonight you’ll serve her, and secure the male lead position for Alfred. I’ll register our marriage with you tomorrow.” I instantly understood her meaning and stared at her in disbelief. “Wesley, don’t be so full of yourself. Who cares about marrying you?” Wesley’s face immediately darkened. “Today is Alfred’s birthday. I promised I’d help him get that role. And you faked being kidnapped last night to slander him—you should compensate for that!” She waved her phone at me with an ambiguous smile. “Louis, I remember your grandfather in the countryside has a heart condition, right?” “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll spread your private photos all over the internet. Guess whether he’ll drop dead from anger after seeing them?” “Even if he doesn’t die, you don’t have money to treat him, do you?” I clenched my fists tightly. My parents died early. My grandfather was my only family. He was old and did have a bad heart. He’d always been careful with his health, most afraid of getting upset or shocked. Wesley was shameless enough to use this to threaten me. I closed my eyes and said through gritted teeth. “Fine. I agree.” Wesley stroked my abs with satisfaction: “Then go change into the suit.”

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I was born with a fortune-telling destiny, and my favorite thing to do is spend money. As a result, I attracted a female internet celebrity who became my devoted follower. I was generous with her too, pouring money into making her an international supermodel. On the day she won the modeling award, she personally tattooed matching symbols on us, and proposed to me using the tattoo as a substitute for wedding rings. I was deeply moved and shared photos of the tattoo with my friend. “This isn’t an ordinary tattoo! It’s a curse to exchange destinies! She’s trying to steal your fortune!” I didn’t want to believe it, but the next day, I caught my girlfriend entangled with another man in my bed. When I caught them, she showed no guilt—instead, she kicked me out! My best friend cursed me for being spineless and wanted to go teach them a lesson for me. But I shook my head and laughed out loud: “This is great! I won’t die anymore! Someone’s finally taken over this damned fortune curse of mine!”

“Daniel? Has Carola driven you crazy? What are you muttering about?” My best friend Borges shouted at me. I looked up, struggling to contain my surging emotions. “My fortune destiny is hard to transfer. Why don’t you come with me to the lottery shop…” After I scratched through a stack of tickets at the lottery shop, the owner kept shaking his head. “Young man, your luck is terrible! Others at least break even, but you can’t even win a consolation prize?” The owner’s teasing words sounded like blessings to my ears. Borges was anxious beside me: “Stop testing! Go wash off that damn tattoo now! Maybe it’s not too late!” I clutched my arm tightly and backed away repeatedly: “I’m not washing it.” “Are you kidding me? Are you an idiot?” Borges looked at me in disbelief. “Not really.” I replied quietly, not daring to speak the truth. “Daniel! Are you stupid! Do you know the power of a destiny-switching curse!” He pulled me aside and opened his phone. The pattern on the screen was almost identical to the tattoo on my arm. “Look carefully! This is a dark curse from Southeast Asia. Once successful, your fate will be swapped with hers! You have a fortune destiny, but what does she have? A pauper’s fate! Do you want to be poor for her?” Borges loved studying mysticism, but I was still skeptical: “Are you sure… destinies can be swapped?” Borges was shocked by my reaction: “Why don’t you care at all!” I almost revealed my secret, but thinking of my deceased parents and not wanting to lose another good friend, I changed the subject. “Forget it, let’s just end this here. Don’t worry about it.” “Why? Are you really going to become poor for that bitch?! It’s not too late to wash it off now!” “I’m not washing it! I said no, so no!” I clutched the tattoo tightly and ran away. Why would I wash it? Being poor is better than being dead!

I was born with explosive financial luck. I always won the jackpot when buying lottery tickets, and I could double my money even with my eyes closed when investing. But despite being so good at making money, my bank account balance never exceeded three digits. My girlfriend Carola always nagged me about it: “Can you save some money? We need to plan for the future.” I brushed her off: “What’s there to fear? The lottery shop is like my ATM.” She rolled her eyes: “Right, I’ve never seen anyone waste money like you.” I smiled on the outside, but felt bitter inside. This wasn’t a fortune destiny—it was a money curse that could kill. When I was still in my mother’s womb, my mom met a priest: “Wow! The child in your belly is extraordinary! He’ll be very wealthy his whole life!” “But he’s also cursed by money. He can’t save a single penny! If he saves money, it’ll cost him his life!” At first, my parents didn’t believe it. But on the day I was born, the hospital waived all fees, my dad’s company randomly assigned him an apartment, on the way home he won a car in a raffle, and even my grandparents’ old house in the mountains was suddenly included in a demolition zone. My grandparents didn’t believe in the curse and secretly kept the demolition money. Within three months, they both died. That money almost killed my parents too. From then on, my family strictly followed one principle: spend money. Until I was ten years old, I wanted to buy my mother a gold necklace and secretly saved ten thousand dollars. The moment I collected enough money, my father had an accident at the construction site and never came home. My mother cried and interrogated me. Only then did I confess about saving money. She finally told me this secret. I was born with a fortune destiny, but I could never save money my whole life—I could only spend it. Otherwise, I’d have bad luck or even die. I wanted to know if there was any solution. My mother shook her head helplessly: “There’s no solution. Not only that, but every 12 years you’ll receive unexpected wealth. If you don’t spend it all quickly, it will cost you and your family your lives.” After she finished speaking, on my 12th birthday, a friend gave me a lottery ticket. When I scratched it, I won ten million. No matter how much I spent, I couldn’t finish it all, and my mother died just like that. I lived alone with this secret until I was twenty-three, still bearing the scar caused by the money curse back then. Meeting Carola was purely coincidental. I casually tipped her during her livestream, and she insisted on adding me on Twitter. One thing led to another, and she became my girlfriend. I accepted her not because I loved her, but because I urgently needed someone to help me spend money. She was perfect—fair skin, beautiful face, long legs, and most importantly, she was really good at spending money. With my twenty-fourth birthday approaching, the money in my account kept multiplying as if it could reproduce itself. This money curse was wickedly strange—I couldn’t buy assets, couldn’t acquire property, and couldn’t even store gold, silver, or jewelry. I could only rent five-star hotel suites year-round, and signed a bizarre agreement with a second-hand luxury goods store—giving them ten million annually to use a bunch of bags and jewelry. I operated my cars the same way. But now, things had changed. The stocks I casually bought all lost money. Walking on the street, not only couldn’t I find money, but all the résumés I submitted sank without a trace. Damn, this feeling… was so refreshing! I couldn’t help but want to thank Carola. However, just to be safe, I decided to check if Carola had suffered any backlash, or kindly remind her to spend more money. Back at the hotel, the staff all recognized me and greeted me politely. The staff reminded me that Miss Carola was at the pool. Following the directions to the pool, I was surprised to find Borges there too. He raised his hand and viciously slapped Carola. I was shocked. No way! Borges, didn’t I tell you not to get involved! Just as I was about to step forward to stop him, Borges’s next words froze me in place. “Didn’t we agree! His destiny would be mine to switch! Why did you act first?!”

I stood frozen. Not far away, Carola wrapped her arms around Borges’s neck and even kissed him on the face: “Who gets rich doesn’t matter, right?” Borges pretended to push her away, but his eyes were glued to her chest: “We agreed I’d go first! I’ve waited seven years…” “Do you know how much I hate him? Every time he casually throws me tens of thousands of dollars with that condescending look… I want to tear his face off!” I felt cold all over, but my eyes were fixed on Borges. On his raised wrist was a wooden bracelet. The patterns on it were identical to the “matching symbols” on Carola’s arm—no, identical to the destiny-switching curse on my arm… So that’s how it was… He was the one who recommended I watch Carola’s livestream. He urged me to accept Carola’s confession. And he was the one who recognized the curse afterward! I was a complete fool, played by them. “Mr. Daniel?” The manager’s voice came from behind me. The two people entangled by the pool suddenly turned around and locked eyes with me. “Daniel?” When Carola saw me, there wasn’t a trace of guilt on her face. Instead, she held Borges even tighter. She sneered mockingly: “What, can’t stand seeing us together? Are you stalking me?” I walked closer step by step, my heart feeling like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand: “So you two were working together to deceive me? I paid a million for your parents’ medical expenses, poured resources and money into getting you from a livestream room to international runways… In your eyes, was all of that just humiliation?” “What else would it be?” Borges seemed angered by my words. “You acted all high and mighty, giving us charity, making us circle around you like lap dogs! Watching you casually squander money we couldn’t earn in several lifetimes—do you know how torturous that is?!” “Alright, calm down,” Carola patted Borges’s back: “Although the destiny switch isn’t complete yet, it’s already irreversible.” She looked down at me coldly: “Just wait and watch your good luck drain away bit by bit, until you become a complete pauper.” Just then, Carola’s phone rang at an inopportune moment. She wanted to hang up, but after glancing at the caller ID, her expression changed. She immediately answered: “Hello? Mr. John! Yes, yes, yes, go ahead…” I knew the Mr. John she mentioned—a judge from last international runway show. I was the one who made the connection. She covered the phone nodding and bowing, occasionally glancing at me. Sweat appeared on Carola’s forehead, and her voice dropped several notches: “Mr. John, rest assured, Daniel… of course he supports me! Our relationship is great! Signing is no problem, I’ll bring him along…” After hanging up, that ingratiating expression vanished instantly, and she stared at me intently.

I roughly knew what was going on. Before I came to find Carola, Mr. John had already contacted me. That man was shrewd, knew I had good fortune, and had benefited from it before. But this time I refused directly and made it clear to him: “Carola’s affairs from now on have nothing to do with me.” But it seems Carola’s credentials weren’t enough. Borges was best at reading the room. He immediately approached me with a fake smile: “Daniel, look, this deal is so important to Carola! You’ve helped her so much before—help her through this, sign this contract, and come with us… together?” I suddenly laughed. Just now they were cursing me, and now they were begging: “Weren’t you just saying you hated me, that I humiliated you? What’s wrong? The stolen fortune can’t handle the situation, so you need me again?” Carola obviously had no patience, her tone harsh: “I’m giving you a chance to make money! Name your price, come with me to sign a contract.” “I don’t want a penny, and from now on your affairs have nothing to do with me! We’re even!” I found it laughable and didn’t want to deal with them. After speaking, I turned to leave. “You’re forcing us to get rough!” Carola suddenly rushed forward and grabbed my hair, pulling it back. Almost simultaneously, Borges forcefully locked my arms from behind. “Let go! What are you doing!” I struggled desperately. Carola leaned close to my ear: “If you won’t go, then your finger will go for you. After all, a fingerprint is all we need.” Borges chuckled behind me: “Thanks for your hard work, Daniel.” Before I could react, a cold flash appeared before my eyes—Carola actually pulled out a folding knife from her pocket! “Help! Murder!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. The hotel manager who rushed over pulled out his phone to call the police, but Carola turned and smiled: “It’s fine, just playing with my boyfriend.” The manager called out doubtfully: “Mr. Daniel? Mr. Daniel, are you alright?” I couldn’t respond. The knife tip was pressing hard against my lower back. Borges lowered his voice and whispered in my ear: “Say anything wrong, and I’ll stab it in right now.” They dragged me forcefully into the suite. The door slammed shut. Borges locked it. I was thrown hard onto the sofa. “You’re crazy?! Forcibly taking fortune and hurting people will accelerate the backlash!” I shouted breathlessly. “Backlash?” Carola sneered. “At this point, you’re still making up stories to scare us?” “What you switched wasn’t a fortune destiny! It’s my money curse!” I shouted it directly. The two froze, then burst into laughter. I stared at them and emphasized again: “I’m cursed by money! The reason I didn’t buy you assets before wasn’t because I was stingy—I literally couldn’t! The way you’re acting evil now will only make the retribution come faster!” The two laughed so hard they almost rolled on the ground. Carola asked while laughing: “Alright then, tell me, with the five hundred thousand in my account now, how long can I live?” “Five days!” I said decisively. “If you don’t spend it all within five days, you’ll definitely die!” “Five days? Isn’t that too long?” Before Carola finished speaking, she suddenly grabbed my left hand. Before I could see what she was doing, a piercing pain shot through my left thumb! “Ahhh—!!!” The pain was so intense I nearly blacked out, cold sweat pouring down. She! She actually used the knife to cut off my thumb directly! She held the bloody severed finger, grinning wickedly, and forcefully pressed a bloody fingerprint on a piece of paper. “Mmm~ This way, Mr. John should accept it too.” She hummed smugly. “You’re so clever, darling~” Borges held her. I trembled from the pain, their triumphant laughter ringing in my ears. Carola grabbed a stack of bills and threw them hard in my face: “Here, your reward! Enough to buy ten of your fingers!” “You! Will be hit by backlash soon!” I endured the intense pain, staring at them. They laughed even harder. Borges crossed his arms and stood to the side, kicking me: “According to you, how much longer can Carola live?” “Five days?” I shook my head and smiled at them both. “Five hours… not her, both of you!!”

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He asked in a cold, clinical tone, “Are you currently sexually active?” “You were my boyfriend, shouldn’t you know?” Staring right at me, he didn’t flinch. “Miss Bennett, I feel the need to remind you that we broke up three months ago.” 1 I was the one who initiated the breakup. He had been working back-to-back shifts in the operating room for three days and completely missed my birthday. I waited at home until midnight, ate half of my birthday cake all by myself, and subsequently landed myself in the midnight ER with acute gastroenteritis, hooked up to an IV drip until dawn. When the sun came up, I clutched my cramping stomach and went home. I had barely sat down on the couch when the front door opened. Liam walked in, looking pale. He still carried the faint metallic scent of blood mixed with the sharp smell of hospital sanitizer. Looking exhausted, he leaned back against the single sofa chair and closed his eyes, acting as if he hadn’t even noticed me sitting right there. I stared at him in disbelief. “Liam Carter, are you seriously going to look right at me and pretend I’m invisible?” He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze cloudy. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m just too tired.” The leftover birthday cake was still sitting on the coffee table. He was too exhausted to even say “Happy Birthday.” By the time Liam woke up, I had already packed all my things. Two suitcases stood side-by-side by the entryway. I lifted my chin and formally announced, “Let’s break up.” Having caught up on sleep, he was back to his usual aloof, detached self. Listening to my declaration, he didn’t argue. He just leaned against the wall and said flatly, “You don’t know how to drive. Want me to take your things back to your place?” “No need.” He didn’t show a single ounce of wanting to win me back. My chest tightened with hurt. “I already called an Uber.” “Text me the license plate number, then,” Liam said, his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight. “Be safe on the road.” In this entire relationship, those were his final words to me. I met Liam on a blind date. Three years out of college, staring down the barrel of my 25th birthday, my mom couldn’t take it anymore and started setting me up. I met six guys in a row. None of them went anywhere. Liam was number seven. The matchmaker said he came from a good family, was incredibly handsome, highly educated, worked as a doctor, had a limitless future, and wasn’t even thirty yet. Before meeting him, I vented to my best friend, Zoe. “If a guy with stats that good is reduced to going on blind dates, he’s either lying about his resume or he has a massive, glaring flaw.” As it turned out, his stats were real. And the flaw was real, too. He was just too busy. Liam was an OB-GYN. He graduated from a top-tier medical school and spent almost every waking second at the hospital. His personality was excessively cold. He had no idea how to sweet-talk girls, which was exactly why he had stayed single for so long. Even on our blind date, before we could finish our meal, he got a phone call, paid the bill early, and gave me a polite, professional goodbye. He was tall and gorgeous—definitely my type—but based on his completely unbothered demeanor throughout dinner, I figured he wasn’t interested. The next day, the matchmaker called my mom. She said Liam thought I was great and wanted to see where things went. And just like that, we dated for six months. Liam really was incredibly busy. During the few dates we actually managed to have, he would take calls, deal with work emergencies, and cut our time short more times than I could count. To see him more, I moved into his place. He handed me his credit card and told me to use it however I wanted. I had his phone passcode. He always had painkillers ready before my period cramps hit, and he always bought me expensive gifts for holidays. But that wasn’t what I needed. “You’re just being spoiled,” Zoe told me. “He literally handed his entire livelihood over to you. What more do you want? Remember that ex who called you a gold-digger because you asked him to cover a dinner bill?” After the breakup, my mom was furious and tried to drag me back to reconcile with Liam. I cried right in front of her. “I’m not going! When he gets busy, he forgets my birthday. I send him a dozen texts and he replies with one word. I can’t take this kind of neglect!” My mom sighed and finally stopped forcing it. When I got home, I opened iMessage and saw a text from Liam: Did you get home safe? I typed back a rigid Yeah, mimicking how he used to reply to me. I’m sorry. I saw the cake you left for me. Happy birthday. Just that one sentence almost made me burst into tears again. I forced them back and typed: Thanks. Okay. And that was the end of the conversation. I didn’t block Liam, and he didn’t delete my number. We stayed silently buried in each other’s contact lists. Liam never posted on social media. I posted to my Instagram Stories ten times a day—random, trivial details of my life. I knew absolutely nothing about his life post-breakup. He, on the other hand, probably knew exactly what I ate for all three meals a day. 2 Once my mom realized Liam and I were truly over, she introduced me to the son of a college friend. His name was Ethan Miller. “Ethan is a little younger than you, but he’s very mature and grounded,” she promised. When I actually met him, I realized my mom was totally full of it. Ethan had just graduated college. For our first date, he took me to an arcade. While a crowd of teenage girls cheered him on, he was going absolutely wild on the Dance Dance Revolution machine. What a childish boy. I stood on the sidelines, feeling a wave of annoyance, and suddenly missed Liam even more. Ethan won me a mountain of plushies from the claw machines, took me to dinner, and drove me home. Bored out of my mind later that night, I lined the plushies up one by one, snapped a photo, and posted it on my Story. When I got out of the shower, I noticed Liam had actually ‘liked’ the post. It was the first time he had engaged with any of my posts since we broke up. Suddenly energized, I zoomed in on the photo and studied it for a good ten minutes. Finally, in the bottom corner of the frame, I spotted Ethan’s hand resting on the steering wheel. Long fingers, prominent knuckles—definitely a man’s hand. I immediately texted Zoe: I think Liam still has feelings for me. She sent back a string of question marks. Chloe Bennett, you broke up three months ago. Get a grip. I am gripping reality. He cares. Truthfully, Ethan was a nice guy, but I knew myself well. Put nicely, I was high-maintenance. Put bluntly, I had princess syndrome. In my twenty-six years of life, the only people who could tolerate my temper were my mom, Zoe, and Liam. Even when I insisted on eating messy, spicy takeout in his pristine bed and accidentally spilled it everywhere, he hadn’t gotten mad. He calmly cleaned up my mess and ordered me a fresh bowl. I booked an appointment online and went to Liam’s hospital clinic the next morning. When I told him I wanted a birth control implant for my arm, his brow furrowed slightly before returning to his usual flat expression. “Are you currently sexually active?” I stared right into his gorgeous eyes above his surgical mask. “You were my boyfriend, shouldn’t you know?” After a beat of silence, Liam said coldly, “Miss Bennett, I feel the need to remind you that we broke up three months ago.” He had never used such a distant, icy tone with me. My nose stung, and I almost dropped a tear. “I’m not… not right now. I’ll figure that out after the implant.” I had actually heard the implant helped with severe period cramps, which is why I wanted it. But clearly, Liam got the wrong idea. As he wrote up my lab orders, he said with a stony face, “For your health, I recommend using barrier methods even after the implant.” Based on past experience, I was almost positive he was mad. I took the slip Liam gave me, walked a lap around the hallway, and circled back. I found him facing away from the door, his head slightly bowed as he spoke to a young girl in a hospital gown. “I reviewed your labs. All your numbers are normal. You can be discharged today.” His voice was so gentle—a complete 180 from how he had just spoken to me. The girl said softly, “Then, Dr. Carter, can I still come visit you after I’m discharged?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, completely failing to hide her massive crush. I froze in place. My chest filled with a sour, aching pain. My mind went blank; I didn’t even hear what Liam said in response. By the time I snapped out of it, the girl was gone. Liam stood a few steps away, looking at me with cool indifference. “Come here.” I walked back into the exam room. He glanced at the unpaid billing slip in my hand and said flatly, “The blood draw doesn’t hurt. Get the bloodwork done, and then I can schedule the procedure.” I was terrified of pain. He knew that. I suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I don’t need it. I actually just came to see you today.” He leaned against the desk in his white coat. The mask hid half his face, leaving only those sharp, cool eyes staring back at me. “See me for what?” There was zero emotion in his voice, like he really didn’t want me there. I sniffled and said out of sheer spite, “Oh, I came to drop off my invitation. I want you at my wedding.” 3 The air froze. Liam closed his eyes, then opened them again. He pulled his mask down, his voice chillingly cold. “Hand it over, then.” Obviously, there was no invitation. I grabbed my purse, blindly rummaged around inside it for a second, and muttered, “Forgot it at home.” The corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest smirk, and he turned to walk away. Without thinking, I tugged at the hem of his coat. “Who was that girl you were just talking to?” “My patient.” Liam stopped and looked back at me. “Miss Bennett, I’m on the clock. If you aren’t here for medical care, please leave.” His eyes were like a perfectly still, freezing lake. It seemed nothing could ruffle him. The only time I had ever seen him lose his composure was two months into our relationship. It was our first kiss. I initiated it. When we pulled apart, he was trying to catch his breath. The look in his eyes was like shattered starlight. Under the warm yellow glow of the streetlamp, he pulled me by the waist, pressed his face against my ear, and whispered my name. “Chloe.” I had never met anyone like him. Just hearing him say my name made my heart race and my knees weak. Now that we were broken up, would there come a day when he looked at another girl like that? Just imagining it made me want to cry. My voice trembled. “Are you going to date her?” “Who?” “Your patient.” He didn’t answer. My heart plummeted. I turned around and forced myself to walk toward the exit. But Liam chased after me and grabbed my arm. Seeing my blurry, tear-filled eyes, he sighed. “No.” “Liam, do you think I’m annoying?” “No.” He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “It’s my lunch break. I’ll drive you home.” My heart leaped, and I quickly agreed. Sitting in Liam’s car, I was surrounded by his familiar, clean scent. He didn’t smoke. The car smelled crisp and pure, just like him. I scrambled for a topic. “Have you been busy these last few months?” “The usual,” he said, turning to give me a quick glance. His tone was perfectly neutral. “Though it seems you’ve been living it up.” “I have not!” I rushed to defend myself. “My cramps have been worse than ever lately. It’s been awful.” He let out a heavy sigh, sounding almost helpless. “I told you before, no ice or cold drinks the week before and during your period. And what did you do? You’ve been drinking iced boba every other day. Of course you’re in pain.” He knew I was drinking iced boba? Did that mean he had zoomed in on every single one of my Stories, right down to the labels on my cups? I perked up immediately, putting on my best pitiful pout. “Well, you weren’t around to supervise me.” The moment those words left my mouth, the air in the car thickened. Looking at the tight line of Liam’s jaw, reality finally caught up with me. We were broken up. But I still loved him. Liam pulled up to the entrance of my apartment complex. “We’re here. Get out.” I tried to invite him in. “Want to come up for a bit? My mom isn’t home. I got new bedsheets, they’re really pretty.” Liam kept one hand on the steering wheel, turned to look at me, and said, word by word, “If you’re getting married, why are you coming back to mess with my head?” “Chloe Bennett, I am not your toy.” He had taken my spiteful lie seriously. Seeing the ice in his eyes, I finally realized I might have… taken the joke too far. “…I’m not getting married. I made that up,” I mumbled, tugging at his sleeve. “I came to the hospital because I just wanted to see you.” He pressed his lips together. “Who did you go to the arcade with the other day?” “My cousin,” I lied smoothly. Liam’s hand twitched slightly. Then he unlocked the doors. “Let’s go.” I blinked. “Go where?” “I still have thirty minutes before my shift. Didn’t you want me to walk you to your door?” My dreary mood instantly lit up. I gave a loud, cheerful “Okay!” and hopped out of the car. I tentatively reached out to loop my arm through his. He didn’t reject me. Instead, he grabbed my wrist and angled his body slightly, just like he used to, so I could hold onto him comfortably. He had taken off his white coat, revealing a soft white cotton shirt underneath. Pressing against his arm felt warm and reassuring, sending a rush of heat straight to my heart. Just as I was about to say something, a familiar voice rang out. “Hey, Chloe.” I looked up. It was Ethan. He jogged over carrying a bag of sodas. Before he could say another word, I loudly cut him off. “Hey, Cousin! What are you doing here today?” Ethan stared at me. I stared back, widening my eyes and silently begging him to play along. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Came to see my favorite older cousin, obviously.” He extended a hand toward Liam. “Hi. I’m Chloe’s cousin.” Liam’s mouth set into a hard line. He briefly shook Ethan’s hand and pulled back immediately. He looked at me, his voice devoid of warmth. “Since your cousin is here, I’m heading back to work.” I clutched my phone, waving at him reluctantly. “Okay. Text me back later, then.” Liam gave a curt “Okay” and walked away. I stared after him until his silhouette disappeared past the gates. Then, Ethan’s voice drifted into my ear. “Hate to see him go, huh, Cuz?” I spun around. Ethan was smiling down at me, his youthful face entirely too close. He was objectively good-looking, but I wasn’t into him. “Thanks for playing along,” I said. “But I’m going to make it clear to my mom—I’m not interested in your type.” Ethan blinked, probably not expecting me to be so brutally honest. He looked down at me and laughed. “Well, that’s a shame. Because I think I’m very interested in your type.” I patted him on the head. “Good boy.” Ethan: “?” “Stop trying so hard to be a player at your age. It’s cringey.” With that, I swung my purse over my shoulder and marched away. 4 I met Zoe for dinner and immediately made my announcement: “I’m going to win Liam back.” “Why?” “Because I love him.” She looked at me like I was an idiot. “If you love him, why did you dump him?” “Because he was so busy he forgot my birthday, he didn’t text me back, and he flaked on our dates a million times…” My voice trailed off into a depressed whisper. “But it’s been three months, and I miss him so much.” “So, if you win him back, are those problems magically going to disappear? Is he suddenly going to be free for your birthdays, never miss a date, and text you back instantly?” I couldn’t argue with that. Zoe and I were best friends, but we were polar opposites. I was dramatic, high-maintenance, and impulsive. She was calm, perceptive, and cut right to the core of everything. “Liam is a doctor. He’s busy, and he’s probably going to be busy for the rest of his life.” “You, on the other hand, don’t even have a 9-to-5. You finish a few illustration commissions a month, and the rest of your time is completely free. Chloe, you need a guy who can be by your side 24/7. And he is never going to be that guy.” I knew the logic. I didn’t want things to be this way, but… it was Liam. Feeling thoroughly miserable, I waited until Zoe went to the restroom and pulled out my phone. I texted him: Are you on the night shift tonight? A few minutes later, he replied: No. I racked my brain for an excuse. I just remembered I left something at your place. Can I come by tonight to grab it? Sure. I comforted myself with the small victory. Sure was a whole word better than his usual Okay. That was progress. After dinner, I said goodbye to Zoe, went home, changed into a sleek slip dress, and did my makeup. I sprayed on some expensive perfume, making sure I looked like absolute bait, put on my heels, and took an Uber to his place. When I got to his door, I realized he wasn’t home. He wasn’t answering my texts. His phone went straight to voicemail. I stood outside his door like an idiot for half an hour. The longer I waited, the more my feelings hurt, until I was fighting back tears and walking back downstairs. As I passed the courtyard fountain, I noticed a familiar car parked nearby. Before I could process it, two people stepped out. Liam stood there, his back straight, just like always. The night shadows softened his sharp, untouchable vibe, giving him this devastatingly quiet allure. And standing right in front of him, looking up at him while she talked… Wasn’t that his patient? Mia? Was the reason he ignored my calls because she was here? Had he lied to me when he said he wasn’t going to date her? I stood frozen, my mind completely blank, biting my lip so hard it hurt. By the time I snapped out of it, they were already walking down the path on the other side of the courtyard. It must have been too dark; Liam hadn’t seen me. I wanted to run after them and demand answers, but I realized I didn’t even have the right to. The more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. I pulled out my phone, found the nearest cocktail lounge, and called a ride. At the bar, I took a perfectly angled selfie, heavily filtered it, posted it to my Story, and made sure to tag the location. Honestly, at twenty-six, this was my first time at a place like this by myself. I was secretly terrified. But thinking about Liam lying to me made me so mad I pushed through. I ordered a craft beer I was too scared to drink and stood by the bar, listening to the live band. After a while, a familiar voice popped up behind me. “Well, look who it is. Chloe Bennett. Fancy seeing you here.” It was Ethan. Again. He walked over with a drink, sat next to me, and smiled. I looked at him slowly. “You know…” “Yeah?” “When my mom set us up, she told me you were a sweet, innocent kid.” I glanced at his nearly empty glass. “You’re a really good actor.” He threw his hands up. “I swear on my life, Chloe, this is my first time at a place like this.” I scoffed. But then I realized something. “Why did you stop calling me ‘Cousin’?” “You’re the one who told me not to call you anything weird,” Ethan said, looking wounded. “I’ve never been called ‘cringey’ in my entire life until I met you.” I almost laughed, but then I thought of Liam and the smile died on my lips. I checked my phone. Radio silence. No texts. No likes on my Story. I looked at Ethan. “Since you’re so obedient, do me one more favor?” He leaned in like an oversized golden retriever, his eyes bright. “What is it?” “Take a selfie with me.” I needed to post one more. I leaned in close to Ethan, opened the camera app, and spent way too long finding the perfect angle. Just as my finger hovered over the shutter button, a shadow fell over us, blocking out the already dim lighting. My eyes trailed downward. I saw a pair of pale, long-fingered hands. Moving up, I saw a loose white t-shirt, a defined collarbone with a tiny mole, a sharp jawline, and finally—a familiar, frost-covered face. Liam stared down at me. His mouth twitched into a terrifying half-smile. “Chloe Bennett. You have exactly ten seconds to leave this place with me.” I wanted so badly to act tough and say, You have no right to tell me what to do. But my survival instincts kicked in. He was absolutely furious. I obediently left my untouched beer on the bar and scurried after him. Ethan called my name from behind us. To commit to the bit, I turned around and said sagely: “Cousin, you’re an adult now, and I can’t control you, but be mindful of your reputation. Go home early.” He stared at me in absolute shock. I could read his lips mouthing: Wow. Betrayed. 5 Sitting in Liam’s passenger seat, I discreetly took a deep breath through my nose. No strange perfume. But I still decided to strike first. “Why did you lie to me?” Liam’s voice was ice. “When have I ever lied to you?” He sounded so mean, my eyes instantly welled up. “You lied! You said she was just your patient and you weren’t going to date her, but you brought her to your apartment!” Liam froze. He frowned. “You were outside my building earlier?” Ha! Look how fast he panicked. He was definitely guilty. I glared at him, tears threatening to spill. “Yes! I called and texted and you ignored me. I waited downstairs and saw you bring her home—if you moved on, why didn’t you just tell me? Did you really think I’d stalk you?” “Wouldn’t you?” “…” I choked on my words. Realizing that I had dumped him and was now the one tracking him down, I definitely looked like a stalker. I closed my eyes and decided to just be completely unreasonable. “If you knew I was going to be crazy about it, why did you fall for someone else?! Aren’t you afraid I’ll crash your wedding?” “I didn’t fall for anyone else, and I didn’t bring anyone home.” Liam’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel. “Mia blocked my car at the gate. Her clothes were torn and she was bleeding. I told her to wait downstairs while I went up to get a jacket and a first-aid kit, and then we waited for her parents to pick her up.” “As for my phone… I forgot to charge it.” He paused. “I assumed you’d just wait inside the apartment.” My tears stopped falling, but I still sniffled out a complaint. “You weren’t home. How was I supposed to wait?” Liam rubbed his temples. A flash of pure exhaustion crossed his eyes. “I never deleted your fingerprint from the door lock. You could have just walked in.” I froze. A weird, swollen ache bloomed in my chest, expanding until it turned into a heat that rushed straight to my ears. Flustered, I looked away and scanned the console. Next to the gearshift was a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. When did he start smoking? While I was distracted, Liam spoke again. “Since you saw me, why didn’t you just come ask me? Chloe, just because you thought I lied to you, you decided to go to a bar with another guy to get back at me?” “T-that was my cousin…” The rest of my sentence was slaughtered by his sharp, freezing glare. Liam leaned in, inch by inch, locking his eyes onto mine. A mocking smile touched his lips. “Is he? Is he really your cousin, Chloe?” My throat closed up. I couldn’t speak. “When the matchmaker set us up, I read your file. It explicitly said you had a small, simple family tree. We dated for six months. I met your mother multiple times. Do you honestly think I don’t know whether or not you have a cousin?” My heart cracked at the sheer hurt in his eyes. A sharp pang radiated through my chest, making my fingertips go numb. “Then… why did you…” “Why didn’t I call you out?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Because I was avoiding reality. I was holding onto this fantasy that if I pretended not to know you were lying, you’d keep clinging to me like you used to, and maybe…” He didn’t finish. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. His long lashes cast a shadow over his cheekbones. His jaw was clenched tight. I had never seen him look so fragile, so lost. My heart ached with guilt, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by him. A moment later, I found my voice. I whispered: “I admit it, Ethan isn’t my cousin. I lied because I was scared you’d be mad. My mom set us up after we broke up, but I don’t like him. I told him straight to his face I wasn’t interested.” I reached into my purse for my phone. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll call him right now and make him confess.” “Don’t.” Liam pressed his lips together. His gaze drifted down to my slip dress and the dramatic makeup I had put on to look pathetic. His voice was hoarse. “Then why did you dress like this to go to a bar with him?” “I went by myself. Running into him was a total accident,” I said pitifully. “And I didn’t dress like this for him. I dressed like this to seduce you.” The air in the car stopped moving. A second later, Liam’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck. As if he had finally lost his mind, he pulled me in and kissed me hard. It was a deeply aggressive kiss. His breath was hot, his eyelashes brushing against my skin. His warm fingers tangled in my hair, the temperature rising rapidly. …God help me. “Chloe.” He pulled back slightly, refusing to put too much distance between us. His other hand tilted my chin up as he studied my face. A moment later, he crashed his lips into mine again. That impenetrable wall of calm detachment was entirely shattered. He looked like a god who had finally fallen to earth, tortured by human desire. By the time he stopped, my legs were jello. Through a haze, I looked up at him and heard him ask: “Chloe, do you want to get back together?” I gripped his shirt with whatever strength I had left. Hearing those words, I nodded without a second of hesitation. “Yes.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “409924”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My mother, terrified I’d mismanage my college living expenses, demanded a daily, itemized expense report. When I bought a one-dollar bagel from a campus cart and couldn’t provide a receipt, she immediately slashed my monthly allowance from $500 to $250. “I only accept printed, itemized receipts. No receipt means you’re embezzling money. Don’t even think about hiding a secret stash.” “If you dare try to scam me out of a dollar with an un-receipted bagel today, you’ll try to scam me out of my entire retirement fund tomorrow.” I spent every day buried in receipts, comparing prices, and doing accounting. I failed all my midterms and was practically drained of life. In despair, with trembling hands, I sent a text to the guy who was currently pursuing me—a senior whose family owned a chain of supermarkets: [Senior, let’s date. As long as you can get me any receipt I need.] 01 [I’ve told you how many times now? I do not accept handwritten receipts. Even if you sent me a selfie with the street vendor, it’s useless. How do I know if you actually bought a one-dollar bagel? I only accept printed, itemized machine receipts.] [Stop trying to play smart with me. Your living expenses for this month are cut in half. From five hundred down to two hundred and fifty.] On the other end of the phone, my mother’s voice dropped like a judge’s gavel. One strike, and she pronounced my death sentence right then and there. A monthly allowance of $250. For a college student living in New York City, it left me frozen in place. Here, the cheapest basic meal at the dining hall—just rice and a side of veggies—costs $8. To save money, I had been eating plain bread dipped in hot sauce for half a month straight. I didn’t even dare to look at the skincare and makeup my female classmates loved to buy, things that easily cost hundreds of dollars. When my face got so dry it peeled, I just used a 50-cent packet of generic baby lotion. New clothes were a luxury I couldn’t even dream of. Right now, the $1 clearance bagel I had managed to grab didn’t even taste good anymore. To get this clearance bagel, I had lined up at 5:30 AM. Because this was the only breakfast I could find that was both cheap and actually had some meat in it. Unfortunately, there was no receipt. To prove I had indeed bought the bagel, I sent my mom a photo of me with the vendor. But my mom didn’t accept it. Because my mom demanded a receipt for every single expense. She would audit my accounts randomly. If the amount I spent didn’t perfectly match the amount on the receipt… She would implement a “fake one, fine ten” policy. For every dollar missing, ten dollars would be deducted from next month’s allowance. My original monthly allowance of $500 was already stretching me thin. If it got cut any further, I truly wouldn’t be able to survive. [Mom, a $250 allowance is nowhere near enough. Can you please just give me the $500 we agreed on? I promise I’ll get a receipt next time I buy something.] My mom’s rejection popped up immediately: [Absolutely not. A mistake is a mistake. You’re a college student in a big city far from home. If I don’t strictly control your living expenses, what if you go wild?] [My money doesn’t grow on trees. Don’t even think about wasting a single cent of mine.] Classmates around me were heading towards a food truck selling hot dogs. A girl turned around and called out to me: “Chloe, come on! Their crepes and hot dogs are huge and delicious.” I shook my head, turned, and went into the convenience store next door that could print receipts. I bought a $3 loaf of bread that was nearing its expiration date. “Don’t mind her, she’s a precious rich girl. She never eats street food. She’s not like us peasants!” “What is she pretending to be poor for? Isn’t that a clearance bagel from a street cart in her hand? She’s so weird. Even when she goes to the supermarket, she buys the cheapest clearance stuff. That dry, crusty bread costs more than our crepes. She’s got rocks in her head.” I lowered my head, crumpling the $3 receipt in my hand. Then, terrified, I quickly smoothed the receipt out, afraid my mom would deduct more of my allowance. Was I angry? Probably. But mostly, I felt humiliated. However, saving face meant nothing to me right now, because tonight was this month’s receipt accounting day. It was the “Judgment Day” that made me tremble with anxiety every single month. It determined exactly how much allowance I would get next month. 02 In the dorm, my roommates were already cheering about receiving their allowance for the upcoming month. “Yay! My dad transferred me $3,000 this month, a thousand more than last month. He said it’s getting hot, so I should buy some watermelon and ice cream, and not get heatstroke. Hehe, I’m treating everyone to BBQ tonight!” I looked at the box filled with a pile of shopping receipts, stayed silent for a moment, and declined my roommate’s invitation. I had to organize my receipts to get next month’s allowance. Plus, I couldn’t even afford to buy tampons with proper packaging. How could I possibly pay someone back for BBQ? That night, taking advantage of the time my roommates were out at dinner. I quickly turned on my desk lamp and took out dozens of receipts: A $1 pack of tissues, a $2 bottle of water, a $3 pen… Following my mom’s requirements, I sent them all to her. By the time I finished, it was two hours later. Sweat from my face dripped down my chin onto my shirt. I tried to wipe it with the back of my hand, but there was more and more of it. It wasn’t until I saw myself in the mirror that I realized… They were tears. But at 5 AM the next day, I was woken up by a barrage of messages from my mom. [Chloe, what is wrong with you? This transaction receipt just says ‘Daily Necessities’. Did you buy something shady behind my back? Haha, trying to get me to reimburse you for hooking up with some random guy. I’m not a sucker!] The receipt my mom was talking about was for a $2.50 pack of clearance tampons. They were on a promotional sale, so it didn’t list the specific item. $2.50. Was that enough for a mother to spread nasty rumors about her own daughter? My fingertips trembled, and the next message popped up. [And how is this bottle of water 50 cents more expensive! The one you bought at the supermarket next door last time was 50 cents cheaper. Are you blind? You don’t even know how to compare prices, you idiot!] But I had gotten heatstroke that day and fainted in front of that supermarket. The kind owner gave me water to drink. I bought it out of gratitude. I put down my phone and stared blankly without moving. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Thinking about the allowance I hadn’t received yet, I tremblingly started typing an explanation. But I had only typed half of it. My mom’s message came through: [Your receipt pasting is a mess, and your accounting is a disaster. I’m deducting another $70. I’m giving you $180. $6 a day won’t starve you to death. Let this be a lesson to you!] Following that was a bright red Venmo transfer notification wishing me “Good Luck and Prosperity.” The color of the transfer was exceptionally festive. But I felt like I had descended into hell. 03 It was 102 degrees outside, and the dorm was sweltering. But I felt freezing cold, so cold I felt like I had turned into an ice sculpture, unable to move a muscle. But my mom still wouldn’t let me go. My phone vibrated again. She sent a PDF file titled “Allowance Usage Guidelines.” It was ten pages long. I sniffled and haphazardly wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. With trembling fingers, I scrolled through it: Every receipt must be signed with a 0.5mm black gel pen to ensure it was my own purchase. After a purchase, it must be uploaded and confirmed by a parent within 24 hours. If it exceeds the time limit, double the receipt amount will be deducted from next month’s allowance. On the 1st of every month, a monthly consumption budget must be submitted, precise to the day and the meal. All consumption vouchers, receipts, and payment screenshots must be retained and sent to a parent for review every day. The purchase of any “non-essential items” is strictly prohibited, including boba tea, snacks, clothing, cosmetics, etc. Participation in any paid entertainment activities is strictly prohibited, such as: Dining out, watching movies, celebrating holidays, concerts. Only after the conditions are audited and approved will the corresponding amount of allowance be disbursed. If there are any violation consumption items… The corresponding amount will be deducted, or the allowance will be suspended! My vision went black in waves, and my head ached like ten thousand needles were piercing it. I felt like I was going to die. I even thought that maybe dying would be a release. These things my mom sent… wasn’t she just trying to drive me to my death? Perhaps my mom also realized how excessive these conditions were. She sent another message: [Chloe, Mom is doing all this for your own good. I want to help you establish correct financial values and be a good kid. Besides, our family’s financial situation isn’t good. Your dad and I just make a fixed salary. You have to understand my good intentions, right?] My mom’s words blocked all the accusations building up in my heart at my lips. Leaving me unable to say a single word. I exited the chat window with my mom, intending to turn off my phone, but my finger accidentally slipped. I accidentally tapped on it and saw my mom’s profile picture in the “Stories” section. How could this be? Mom never posts stories. I quickly clicked to look and saw that my mom had posted a grid of nine daily life photos. She had bought a $50,000 designer bag, and she even had two of the same style in different colors. Mom captioned the photos: [The joy of a mere $100,000.] She was also eating at a high-end restaurant with my dad. The caption on that photo read: [Having this every week, getting kind of sick of it. Does anyone have any restaurant recommendations? Must be over $1,000 per person~] When I tried to look again, the story was gone. I suddenly remembered that my mom always said our family was poor. I had told her I could apply for financial aid and student loans. At the time, my mom refused, giving the grand excuse that we should leave the opportunity to those who truly needed it. Looking at it now, the reason she wouldn’t let me apply… Was because our family’s financial situation was actually very good! She gave me so little allowance and set such harsh conditions… Just because she wanted to control me. My mom’s message came through again. [Why aren’t you saying anything? You haven’t accepted the transfer either. Do you not want your allowance?] [Chloe, you’re an adult now. Mom doing this is just to make you responsible for your own spending. The 24-hour rule is to improve your efficiency and fix your bad habit of procrastinating. Those boba teas and snacks are just garbage that make you fat and harm your body. And those parties, that’s not socializing, that’s wasting time eating, drinking, and playing around. Remember, your parents’ money doesn’t grow on trees, and it’s certainly not for you to squander!] I looked at the message I hadn’t sent yet: [Our family is obviously very rich. Why do you treat me like this!] After thinking about it, I deleted it bit by bit. I hadn’t taken a screenshot of my mom’s story; I had no proof. Once I rebelled, my situation would likely get even worse. The $180 allowance left me with no way out, and no strength to fight back. I silently accepted the transfer, praying in my heart that if I met my mom’s demands, next month’s allowance might be a little higher. Even if it just went back to $500, that would be fine. But I never expected that my temporary endurance would lead to my true descent into the abyss. 04 My mind was no longer on studying. I was constantly calculating in my head: how much money do I have left, and how can I spend it? Several times in class, I brought the wrong textbook. But I didn’t dare lose or mix up a single shopping receipt. Because I had no money, I gradually grew distant from my classmates. Rumors about me started to multiply. Some said I had mental problems, valuing a piece of scrap paper shopping receipt more than my own life. Last time, trying to chase down a shopping receipt blown away by the wind, I fell down the stairs and scraped my leg. Some said I had no sympathy. During a heatwave, an old man selling fruit by the side of the road looked very pitiful. Everyone bought fruit to help the old man; I was the only one who didn’t. Others said I was just a petty person who liked to take advantage. When a new supermarket opened, I lined up at 3 AM and ended up missing an important major course. Every day, I couldn’t get enough to eat. In just one month, my weight plummeted from 110 pounds to under 90 pounds. I wanted to get a part-time job, but being alone all the time made my palms sweat and my whole body tremble whenever I spoke to strangers. On the second day of my part-time job, I fainted in the store. It was the kind-hearted boss who took me to the hospital. The doctor said I had severe depression and was already showing serious somatic symptoms, meaning I could faint at any moment. I didn’t dare go back to the part-time job, afraid of causing trouble for the boss. But I couldn’t even afford to pay for the medication the doctor prescribed. I understood even more that as long as the issue with the allowance receipts remained, my depression would never be cured. For a pitifully small allowance, I was truly going crazy. But even when I did what my mom demanded. She still found faults, and my allowance never went back up to $500. That day, right after class, I felt a sharp, twisting pain in my stomach. Because I had been chronically underfed and eating poorly, I had developed severe stomach issues. But I couldn’t even afford the cheapest stomach medicine the doctor prescribed, so I ended up just buying the cheapest painkillers. By the time I left the pharmacy, it was very late. My stomach was still throbbing with pain. After finishing a bagel, I threw away the plastic bag and accidentally threw away the pharmacy receipt into the trash can. Realizing what had happened, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Reacting immediately, I disregarded everything and started digging through the trash can. I didn’t care if my fingers got cut, and I didn’t care about the foul stench of the trash can. I just wanted to find that receipt. A familiar voice came from behind me. It was my best friend from a neighboring university, Mia. I didn’t answer her, having finally found that receipt. I quickly wiped the receipt clean with my clothes. When I looked up, Mia was already standing in front of me, looking shocked and heartbroken. Only then did I realize what I had just done, my face turning bright red. Followed by a dam-burst of tears. Mia didn’t care that I was dirty and smelly, and she hugged me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore and showed her my chat history with my mom. Choking back sobs, I said: “Am I a criminal? Do I need to prove every single breath I take?!” Mia gritted her teeth in anger. “Holy shit, is this raising a daughter or punishing a prisoner? Rules? Signatures? 24 hours? Does she think she’s the FBI?” “To hell with her bullshit rules. Chloe, if you keep enduring this, you’re truly going to be ruined!” I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my flesh. That thought, which had sprouted countless times only to be suppressed by me, could no longer be contained. I had to fight back! Before I could speak, the phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated. It was a greeting message from a senior who had already graduated. He asked me if I was eating well. Mia leaned in. “Wow, such caring words. Is he pursuing you? He’s pretty handsome, and I heard his family is well-off. They run a chain of supermarkets.” Supermarkets! I blinked, an idea forming in my mind. That night, hiding under the covers, I was so nervous my hands shook. I sent a message to the senior: [Senior, let’s date. As long as you can get me any receipt I need.]

When my boyfriend found out I had a thousand dollars loaded onto my campus dining card, his eyes practically turned into dollar signs. Under the guise of “helping me budget,” he convinced me to let him hold onto it. But when I bought a $15 steak for lunch, he completely lost it. “Fifteen dollars? That’s enough for me to eat in the dining hall for three days. If I ate ramen and beans, it would last me ten days!” “My parents have worked their fingers to the bone their entire lives, and they’ve never even smelled a steak like that. And you? You’re playing the rich heiress with your parents’ hard-earned money?” “Go return that steak right now and get a $5 combo meal.” I laughed out of sheer anger. My parents loaded a thousand dollars onto my dining card so I could eat well every meal, not so I would have to walk on eggshells to get a bite of food. 01 At lunchtime, I used my dining card to buy the daily special: a $15 pan-seared steak. The moment I sat down, my boyfriend, Ethan, suddenly snapped at me. “Chloe, are you insane? Fifteen dollars for a thin piece of meat? Do you think money grows on trees?” “My parents work themselves to death all month just to scrape together a few of those fifteen dollars. They don’t even know what a steak tastes like! And what are you doing? Acting like some spoiled trust-fund baby?” “Go return it right now. Go get a $5 value meal.” My fork froze mid-air. I looked at my inexplicably furious boyfriend in confusion. I swiped my card. Why was he so agitated? I knew Ethan came from a struggling rural family. His parents farmed to put him through college. His monthly allowance of $150 wasn’t even enough to cover one nice dinner out for me. He pinched pennies in his daily life. He only bought things on extreme clearance and only ate the cheapest meals. The faded white button-down he wore was supposedly from middle school; he hadn’t thrown it away in eight years. Mindful of his financial situation and afraid of hurting his pride, I suppressed my anger and tried to explain gently. “Ethan, I only eat this occasionally. It’s not like I’m having it every meal. Plus, the quality of this steak is really high. It’s definitely worth the price.” I held up a piece of the steak on my fork to show him. Plump meat, a beautiful rosy color, seared perfectly. A steak of this quality would easily cost forty or fifty dollars at a restaurant off-campus. “Eat? Do you even deserve to eat something this expensive? Look at you. Who besides me could stand a spendthrift like you?” Ethan interrupted me impatiently, slamming his hand on the table and knocking the fork right out of my hand. The piece of steak tumbled to the floor, instantly drawing the attention of the students around us. My eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and anger. Just as I was about to fire back. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several students pointing and whispering about us. Some even had their phones out. “He’s so mad, his girlfriend must have maxed out his dining card.” “I think I’ve heard of that guy. He’s a senior, really good grades, but he’s on a low-income grant. He probably snapped because he can’t afford his gold-digger girlfriend.” “That girlfriend is so clueless. Her boyfriend is broke, and she’s maxing out his card? She’s obviously just a leech.” Hearing the whispers around me, my cheeks burned like fire. I reached out to grab Ethan’s sleeve. “If we’re going to fight, let’s do it outside. There are so many people here, aren’t you embarrassed?” “Besides, I spent money from my own dining card! And my parents loaded all that money because they want me to eat well. It’s just a piece of steak. It’s not like I can’t afford it.” Ethan violently shook off my hand. Ignoring my resistance, he forcefully dragged me to the next table, pointing at a student who was gnawing on a plain bagel. “Look. This is what you call knowing how to live. A vain parasite like you should be forced to eat plain bagels and cheap beans every day.” “If you’re willing to blow $15 on something as flashy as a steak today, what’s next? Are you going to want a $50 salad? A $20 bottle of water? How can I trust you with our family’s finances in the future if you act like this? You aren’t thinking about our future at all!” “Think you can just swipe your card whenever you want? Dream on. I told you I’d manage your dining card, and I’m a man of my word. I need to monitor every meal you eat to keep you from wasting your parents’ hard-earned money!” Under the strange gazes of the crowd, I stared at the steak lying on the floor, trembling with rage. Ethan holding onto my dining card was like him choking the very breath out of me. I felt incredibly stifled. Using my own dining card had somehow become a “sin” worthy of public criticism and education. I couldn’t help but regret agreeing to let him manage my dining card in the first place. 02 At the beginning of the semester, when Ethan found out I had a thousand dollars on my dining card, his eyes lit up. He told me he was a Taurus, that he had been good with money since he was a kid. He said that since I was a freshman, I wouldn’t know the ins and outs of the dining halls—which had over fifty different food stalls. He was afraid I’d get ripped off and offered to manage my dining card, promising to save me money while making sure I ate well and cheaply. “Chloe, you’re young and don’t know how to budget. Let me hold onto your dining card. Tell me when you want to eat, and I’ll be there on call.” Thinking that as a junior, he definitely knew the dining halls better, and swept up in his sweet-talk of “doing it for my own good” and the rose-colored glasses of new love, I foolishly handed over my dining card. Ever since Ethan took over my dining card, every time I wanted to use it, I had to report to him first. He would interrogate me in agonizing detail about what I wanted to buy and how much it cost. At first, I thought he just cared about me. I even happily told him I wanted to buy some fresh strawberries for $10. Ethan sucked in a breath of cold air. “Ten dollars? Do you know how many pounds of bananas you could buy with that?” “Instead of eating 50-cent bananas, you insist on strawberries. You girls are all just following trends, eating whatever’s expensive. You deserve to be ripped off by these greedy merchants!” “Strawberries and bananas have the same nutritional value. Listen to me, just buy a pound of bananas.” In the end, I went back to my dorm carrying clearance bananas that cost a dollar a pound. Ethan was very satisfied. He said it all looked the same once it hit your stomach, so there was no need to pay extra for how it looked. I felt incredibly frustrated. There were many similar incidents. Every time I wanted to buy something, Ethan would “kindly” find a so-called cheap alternative. Boba tea was swapped for tap water. A slice of cake was swapped for a plain muffin. He even wanted to swap a $2 yogurt for a free promotional drink his roommate got with takeout. Pile upon pile, Ethan’s words felt like iron chains binding me, stripping away my freedom. But I never imagined that the Ethan who once promised to be “on call” would now lecture me over spending a few dollars. This was completely different from what he said about “saving me money” when he asked for my card. This was him actively restricting my spending. I stubbornly started a cold war with Ethan and went to the dining hall with my roommate, Sarah. It just so happened the dining hall had opened a new premium stir-fry stall. The food looked amazing and smelled divine. It cost $8 a plate. Since Ethan had my physical card, I used the mobile app linked to my account to pay via QR code. Right after I paid, my phone started ringing immediately. “Chloe, what did you buy that cost $8? You just can’t change, can you? I confiscate your physical card, and you just use the app?” “Fine, I’m coming to the dining hall right now to show everyone what a spoiled brat looks like!” His angry voice drew stares from the students around me. I felt embarrassed and angry. “You don’t need to come. I already got it to go.” “Besides, I just bought a plate of stir-fry. Is it a crime to use the money from my own account?” “Chloe, we’re dating, and you’re already dividing what’s yours and what’s mine? What are we going to do when we get married? Split everything 50/50? Can you stop being so selfish? Can you think about us for a second? Do you think it’s easy for your parents to make money? Don’t you feel guilty spending it like this? Listen to me. From now on, if it costs more than a dollar, ask me first.” Seeing the strange looks from the people around me and Sarah’s probing gaze, I was flush with shame and anger. Tears welled in my eyes as I hung up the phone. The delicious stir-fry, just like the steak that day, turned into something that made me lose my appetite. Back in the dorm, Sarah saw my red eyes, let out a muffled laugh, and then offered some hypocritical comfort. “Oh, Chloe, Ethan is just looking out for you. Look at me, when I want to eat something nice, I don’t have anyone to tell me no. He’s talking to you because he cares. Unlike me, a loner with no one to love or care for me.” “It’s rare to find a guy who knows how to budget like him nowadays. He’s so busy all day, but he still finds time to pay attention to what you eat. Even if he plays the bad cop, he’s trying to help you break your bad spending habits. He genuinely wants a long-term future with you.” I responded with a few annoyed “mhm”s and climbed into bed, closing my eyes to sleep. But lying in bed, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a heavy stone. It was so suffocating. It was already 3 AM, but I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I just couldn’t understand. Why did “looking out for me” mean losing the freedom to choose what I eat and drink? Why did it mean only consuming cheap alternatives? For the first time, I realized that I couldn’t handle this “good intention” from my boyfriend in the name of love. 03 After evening study hall, my stomach rumbled. I wanted to go to the late-night snack window at the dining hall. I didn’t expect that Ethan, afraid I’d spend money, had actually disabled the quick-pay feature on my app. Furious, I went straight to his dorm building to get my physical card back. When he came downstairs, his first sentence was an interrogation about what I was going to buy. I told him straight up that I was hungry and wanted some soup and a small piece of cake. Ethan looked confused, looking me up and down for a solid minute. “No way! Look what time it is. Eating soup and cake now? It’ll make you fat and waste money. Just endure it. Go drink some water. You won’t be hungry once you’re asleep.” Shock spread across my face. He actually wanted me to fill up on water? The burning sensation of hunger gave me strength. I stood firm and refused to back down, confronting him in front of the busy dorm entrance. Finally, with a dark expression, Ethan followed me to the dining hall. Taking long strides, he swiped the card before I could say anything, bought a plain, dry roll, and handed it to me like charity. “Fine. Eat. Stop walking around with a long face like I’m abusing you. I’m providing for you, what more do you want?” I frowned at the roll in his hand—harder than a rock and completely unappetizing—and shoved it away forcefully. I was exhausted after a whole night of studying. I absolutely refused to eat a dry piece of bread for a late-night snack. Ethan, seeing my reaction, immediately threw the roll onto the floor! “Eat it or don’t. Starve, you deserve it. It’ll help you lose that fat anyway.” Looking at the roll rolling on the floor, my stomach cramped in pain, and my heart felt even more suffocated. Hungry and feeling deeply wronged, I went to find my best friend, Mia, crying as I poured out the details of this terrible conflict caused by the dining card. Ethan was my first boyfriend. I valued this relationship very much. We originally met online. I posted on a forum asking for advice on college applications, and he patiently guided me and encouraged me to apply to his university. Online, he was funny, humorous, attentive, and considerate. He would send me ginger tea when I had my period. For my birthday, he sent a matching couple’s bracelet he wove himself. When I had a cold, his heart ached so much he stayed up all night on a voice call with me, constantly muttering: “God above, transfer all her pain to me. Just let my baby be healthy and safe.” When the semester started, I was full of anticipation to meet him in person. But I never expected the real-life him to be completely different from the gentle, considerate boyfriend online. I knew our living standards were vastly different. I’m the only daughter of a family in California. My parents run a successful international trading business. They provide for all my needs. For my 18th birthday, I got a luxury condo in Los Angeles. When I was eating $100 sushi, he was eating plain bread with hot sauce before running an hour to do a $15 tutoring session. But he had good grades and ambition. Even though he had a year left until graduation, he had already secured an internship at a Fortune 500 company. His future was bright. He also promised me: “Baby, when I graduate and get a job, I’ll give all my salary to you.” I didn’t have a very profound concept of money. My parents told me to keep a low profile at school, to avoid showing off wealth, and to avoid bringing unnecessary trouble to the family. So, after starting college, I gave up eating at high-end restaurants and squeezed into the dining halls with my classmates. With Ethan, I also believed that after he graduated and had a stable income, the gap between us would narrow. But I never expected the conflict exposed by the dining card would make me realize that our entirely different concepts of consumption couldn’t be resolved simply by compromising. The gap in our backgrounds was like an uncrossable chasm. After Mia understood the whole story, her words hit the nail on the head. “He took your dining card? That’s robbery. It’s manipulation. It’s psychological control!” “Saving you money? Bullshit! He’s jealous. He’s insecure. He can’t stand seeing you live better than him. He wants to drag you down into the mud so you rot with him.” “Managing your dining card? The next step is making you hand over your living expenses, your salary, turning your money into his money. Wake up, Chloe! This is the beginning of a crime!” Mia reminded me seriously: “Go check your dining card balance immediately. With a guy like this, who knows if he’s been secretly spending your money!” I woke up as if from a dream, realizing the severity of the problem. It turns out that true “good intentions” lift you higher. They don’t clip your wings and then blame you for not being able to fly. I pulled out my phone and immediately texted Ethan. [We’re done. Return my dining card immediately.]

When we moved into our new home, my mom warned me over and over not to expose my succubus identity. But it didn’t take long before I was starving, and my true form popped out right in my second stepbrother’s arms. He wickedly tugged at my tail. My face was flushed, my voice trembling: “Ethan, I let you touch my tail and ears. You can’t tell a third person…” Before I could finish, I saw my oldest stepbrother, fresh out of the shower, standing at the bedroom door. “Too late. Unless you let me touch them too.” 01 I was curled up in Ethan’s arms, burning up. His hand was kneading the tip of my tail, giving it a wicked tug every now and then. That tingling sensation almost made me cry. To make matters worse, his other hand was playing with my ears, his fingertips brushing lightly behind them. “Ethan… don’t touch the ears…” I bit my lip, my voice as faint as a mosquito. A succubus’s ears and tail are incredibly sensitive. Growing up, I had never been touched like this by anyone. “Hmm?” Ethan’s breath ghosted over my ear. “Didn’t you say I could touch everything?” I shuddered and shook my head frantically. “I take it back… I take it back!” But my tail unconsciously wrapped itself around his finger. A low chuckle came from above my head. “Your mouth says no, but your tail is very honest.” I buried my face in his wrinkled shirt, dying of embarrassment. This was a completely instinctual reaction. I swore I really couldn’t control it! A succubus’s tail has a mind of its own. Ethan moved again, his long fingers slowly tracing up my tail. Like he was playing with a fascinating new toy. “Tsk, are all you succubi this soft?” As a newly-adult succubus, having my true form played with like this… I was going to explode. 02 I always thought I was a normal human. Until I turned 18, and fluffy ears and a tail popped out of nowhere. Looking at myself in the mirror, my world collapsed. My mom told me the truth. Turns out, she was a succubus who married a human, and then they had me. I originally had a fifty percent chance of being a normal human. She patted my head and sighed: “My genes were just too strong. I didn’t expect you to inherit the succubus trait.” Before I could even recover from the shock of not being human, my mom dropped another bomb the next day: she was divorcing my dad. I was devastated all over again. “Do you guys not love each other anymore? Am I not going to have a dad?” My mom shook her head, stroking my face with pity. “Your dad has already been sucked dry by me. It’s time to swap for a new one.” On the day of the divorce, my biological dad, Robert Miller, held a massive bottle of Viagra and testosterone boosters, crying his eyes out. His steps were weak, his face pale, but he still clung to my mom’s dress, begging her not to leave. My mom didn’t say anything; she just patted his shoulder. “Take care of your health.” I thought my mom would be sad for a while, but less than a month later, she came to me glowing with vitality. “Chloe, we’re getting a new family.” According to my mom, my stepdad’s ex-wife divorced him because she complained he was like a horny teenager. When he met my mom, sparks flew. It was a perfect match. They eloped within a month. It was only when we moved into our new home that I was told I had two stepbrothers. The eldest, Liam Vance, was the current CEO of the Vance family’s investment firm—cold, aloof, and completely untouchable. The second brother, Ethan Vance, I actually knew of. He was the captain of the basketball team at my university, radiating serious bad-boy energy. Our stepdad, Richard, told them to take good care of me. During our first meeting, Ethan sat lazily on the couch, his long legs stretched out. Seeing me, he waved his hand dismissively. “Come here.” 03 I obediently walked over to him. When I got close, I finally noticed the small beauty mark near the corner of his eye. “Call me Ethan.” “Ethan.” Ethan ruffled the top of my head and let out a low chuckle. “Pretty obedient.” I don’t know why, but my whole body suddenly felt scorching hot. I barely managed to hide my ears and tail. My oldest stepbrother, Liam, was very busy with the company, so I rarely saw him. One day, I ran into him at home, and he handed me a bracelet. I didn’t recognize the luxury brand, but my intuition told me it was incredibly expensive. I hesitated, too scared to take it. Liam looked up at me. His sharp nose and slightly pressed lips gave off an intimidating, authoritative aura. “Don’t like the welcome gift?” I flinched, quickly shook my head, and took it. “I love it. Thank you, Liam.” “Mm.” Liam reached out and patted my head. The scent of his expensive cologne drifted into my nose. It smelled really good. I felt my ears and tail itching to pop out again. I quickly escaped to my room and frantically texted my mom for help. [Mom, why do I keep getting burning hot lately, and why do my ears and tail want to pop out?] Mom: [Now that you’ve matured into a succubus, you need to be ‘fed’ regularly.] [Hugs, kisses, and physical touch from the opposite sex all work. Otherwise, your succubus features will expose themselves. Ideally, you should go all the way… that’s the most effective.] [If you go too long without being satisfied, your whole body will burn up with fever…] Reading this, my face turned beet red. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. What kind of spicy, rated-R setup was this?! Why did it have to happen to me? And never mind going “all the way.” Growing up, I was so innocent I hadn’t even held a boy’s hand! Where the hell was I supposed to find a guy to do that with right now? Another text from my mom popped up. [Chloe, it’s all my fault. I was so focused on making you study for your SATs that I never taught you about this. I thought you were human, I didn’t realize you were just a late bloomer.] [Don’t worry, Mom will absolutely scout out a great boyfriend for you! If you find someone you like, make a move! Until we find you a boyfriend, just hold it in. DO NOT let your ears and tail show, and whatever you do, don’t let your stepdad or stepbrothers find out!] I nodded to myself in the empty room. [Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll definitely hold it in!] 04 I couldn’t hold it in. That night, I curled up under my blankets, helplessly biting my pillowcase. Why did it hurt so much? My scorching body temperature felt like it was setting me on fire. My skin was burning; I felt so hot and restless. I texted my mom for help, but she didn’t reply. I threw on a jacket and decided to go knock on her door. The heat was frying my brain. I stumbled blindly to a door and knocked. The door opened. But wait, why was Ethan the one opening the door? Ethan leaned against the doorframe, looking at me lazily. “It’s late. Something wrong?” I looked up, staring straight at him. My brain was completely mush. “Nothing…” I just wanted to get closer to him. Closer, just a little closer… My body moved on its own, wrapping my arms around him. I buried my face in his hard chest and rubbed against it. A satisfied sigh escaped my lips: “Ethan, you smell so good.” Ethan’s body stiffened. He shoved me away, his voice sounding unnatural. “What are you talking about?” His hands gripping my shoulders felt searing hot, but I couldn’t resist pressing myself against his arm, rubbing my cheek against it. So cool, so comfortable. “Ethan, just one hug…” Before I could finish, I was yanked into his room. From the hallway, I heard my mom’s voice: “Weird, she texted me, but she’s not in her room…” Inside the room, Ethan pinned me against the back of the door, clamping his hand tightly over my mouth. I took the opportunity to run my hands over his abs. Ethan sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed my wandering hands. “Hiss… stop touching me.” Before he could finish, he stared blankly at the top of my head, looking completely bewildered. “Holy shit, why do you have ears?” He didn’t know I had a tail, too. My tail had slipped out of my nightgown and was wagging frantically behind his back. 05 Once the noise in the hallway disappeared, Ethan let go of me and touched my fluffy ears. He even pinched them. As if trying to confirm if they were real, he then gave my tail a tug. A tingling, electric sensation shot from my tail through my entire body. I shuddered, unable to hold back any longer, and pounced on him. He caught me in a full embrace. “Holy— what are you doing, stop, hiss…” Ignoring his protests, I grabbed him and aggressively inhaled his scent. By the time my sanity barely returned… I realized I was straddling Ethan. I had even ripped several buttons off his shirt. His large hand was firmly pressing my head down to stop me from rubbing against him, while his other hand propped him up on the bed. He looked like he was losing his mind. “Chloe, what the hell did you grow? And stop rubbing your ears and tail on me.” Realizing what I had just done to my stepbrother… I didn’t dare look up. I answered him in a tiny voice: “We succubi… we grow ears and tails.” After saying that, I tried my hardest to restrain myself, scooting my butt backward. I heard another sharp intake of breath above my head. His hoarse, warning voice sounded: “Succubus step-sister, stop moving.” Uh-oh. Under my butt, there seemed to be something… Suddenly, a knock on the door. “Ethan, the shower in my room is broken. Let me use yours for a bit.” I was still sitting on Ethan’s lap. My entire succubus brain went completely blank. We locked eyes. Crap, I didn’t want Liam to find out! Was there anywhere I could hide?! Ethan reacted fast. He shoved me straight under his duvet. “If Liam finds out you’re in my room this late, I won’t be able to explain it. Don’t make a sound.” After warning me, he dove under the covers too. His long legs formed a tent under the blanket, giving me space to hide. As if afraid I’d move around, he firmly pressed my head against his abs. Feeling the warm skin against my face… I swallowed hard. Ah, his abs smell so good. I want to bite them. In the room, it sounded like Liam had walked in. “Why is your face so red?” Ethan’s hoarse voice replied: “It’s nothing. If you’re going to use the shower, hurry up… mm.” Halfway through his sentence, he let out a muffled groan, gritting his back teeth. Under the blanket, I honestly couldn’t resist. I nuzzled my face against Ethan’s abs and planted a kiss right on them. 06 Liam looked at Ethan’s flushed face and the shifting lump under the duvet. His deep, smooth voice carried a hint of amusement. “You’ve got a lot of energy for this time of night. Looks like I interrupted your fun.” Ethan’s face turned beet red. His tone sounded like he was swallowing broken glass. “It’s nothing. Just go take your shower, bro.” A moment later, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Ethan yanked me out from under the blanket by the scruff of my neck. He held the back of my head, his narrow eyes glaring fiercely at me. “Do you have a death wish?” Now that I couldn’t rub against his abs anymore… I pouted. “I just wanted a hug.” He stared at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Fuck.” I persisted, leaning closer: “Ethan, if I let you touch my ears and tail, will you let me hug you?” The look in Ethan’s eyes instantly darkened… His shirt was hopelessly wrinkled from me grabbing it, and two buttons were torn open, exposing his defined collarbone. I swallowed frantically, using all my willpower not to bite him. Just from hugging him earlier, I had finally regained my sanity. I carefully begged him not to tell anyone. Ethan tugged at my tail, revealing a playful, roguish smirk. His raspy voice sounded: “Then let me touch them some more. I haven’t had enough.” I trembled under his hands. Every second was pure agony. I looked up at him with teary eyes: “Ethan, I let you touch my tail and ears. You have to promise me you won’t tell a third person.” He tipped my chin up, his handsome face inches from mine. The corners of his eyes curved up slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t worry, why would I let anyone else know…” But before he could finish his sentence, the familiar scent of expensive body wash hit my nose. I snapped my head up. My oldest stepbrother, Liam, was leaning against the doorframe, wearing loose loungewear, his chest partially exposed. He was staring at us, his eyes dark and unfathomable. 07 I froze. How much did Liam see? “Looks like I finished at a bad time.” Liam’s voice was low, but his gaze made me inexplicably panic. Ethan’s hand was still resting on my tail. Hearing this, he raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even say anything when you got out of the shower?” Liam spoke slowly: “I did. You two were just too invested to hear.” My face instantly caught fire. I struggled to slip out of Ethan’s arms, but he pulled me even closer. Liam walked over, his usually stoic face unreadable. “Since I’ve already seen everything, how about you let me touch them too?” Hearing Liam’s words, my brain short-circuited. Liam, you too?! I shook my head frantically: “No!” “Why not?” Liam sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes darkening. “You let Ethan touch them, but not me. That’s not fair.” I looked at Ethan pleadingly, but he just shrugged at me. “I listen to Liam.” I was so mad I wanted to bite someone. Since when were these two so synchronized?! Liam reached out, his long fingers gently brushing the tip of my ear. I shuddered, my tail unconsciously wagging. “So cute,” Liam chuckled. “Like a little bunny.” I was dying of embarrassment, but completely helpless. A succubus’s ears and tail were simply too sensitive. Being played with like this, I didn’t even have the strength to stand. To make matters worse, Ethan wickedly raised his knee, forcing me deeper into his lap. “You… you guys can’t tell anyone…” I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. “Of course.” Liam’s finger traced the curve of my ear down to my neck. “But on one condition.” “What condition?” “From now on, whenever I want to touch them, I can.” My eyes widened. “No way!” Liam let out a low laugh. “Yes way.”

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